


The Voyage Home

by screamingsongbird16



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Complications from head injuries, Fatherly Yuuki, Gen, Head Injury, Undercover as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7096393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingsongbird16/pseuds/screamingsongbird16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the journey home from France, Lt. Col Yuuki and Hatano slip into the roles of grandfather and grandson.  It should have been easy and uncomplicated.  But it turned out to be a little too easy to fall into their roles, and more than a little too complicated to remember it was just an act, when side effects from Hatano’s head wounds arise.  Never before has Yuuki had a problem separating his own feelings from his role’s.  But then again, he’s never had protégés before, or anyone who felt like actual family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Set after Episode 3

 

            Yuuki waited in the shadowy tavern connected to the tiny French inn where he was staying. He had been there for some time. Hatano wasn’t late, but Yuuki couldn’t let him be too early. He was Hatano’s final contact for this last part of his mission. He had the cover story and travel papers and boat tickets that the young spy needed to facilitate his trip home.

            If by some chance Hatano had arrived early and had to improvise, Yuuki was certain he could have salvaged the situation. Hatano knew how to lie well enough that he wouldn’t dig them into a hole. Likewise, if Yuuki hadn’t shown up at all, he knew Hatano wouldn’t have had a bit of trouble making his way halfway across the world, to get home. But there was no need to invite anymore trouble than necessary. Despite Hatano’s calm words at their last meeting, Yuuki sensed the young spy had encountered more problems than he’d admitted in his mission.

            Yuuki would get the entire story from him once they were in a secure location.

            Twenty minutes before the meeting time, the door creaked open and Hatano stepped in. He scanned the room in a glance, without seeming to, and gave no sign of surprise when his eyes came to rest on Yuuki, even though Yuuki knew the boy must have been surprised by his presence yet again.

            Hatano crossed the room to him quickly, but subtly, picking a route that kept him away from the room’s few lights. When he reached the table he stopped, hesitiating as though he wasn’t sure if he should sit down or not. Waiting for Yuuki to make the first move.

            “You’re late, grandson,” Yuuki told him in a voice full of disapproval.

            Hatano quickly bowed low and respectfully, falling into the role that he had only just learned that second that he was to be playing without a hitch. “Sorry, Grandfather. I got a little bit lost.”

            Yuuki let his frown slip minutely, like he’d been slightly mollified. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked gruffly.

            Hatano’s stomach growled as if on cue. Yuuki had to fight a smile because he didn’t think that was an act. He signaled the waitress who brought them a menu.

            “You’re not eating, Grandfather?” asked Hatano.

            “I already ate.” Yuuki hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself, sitting there like he was obviously waiting for someone or something.

            Hatano ducked his head contritely. “Sorry, Grandfather.”

            Anyone watching would have bought their act hook, line, and sinker. Yuuki and Hatano played their roles perfectly, but both spies knew they were just that. Roles.

            Hatano was well aware that he wasn’t even close to being late and he had nothing to be sorry for. Yuuki wasn’t really annoyed at him. Not even about feeding him, since this made their cover all the more believable. Besides, after what Yuuki had asked of Hatano, and after whatever still unknown to Yuuki hardships he’d gone through on his mission, Yuuki didn’t mind buying him a meal.

            Maybe, deep down, if Yuuki was honest with himself, he actually liked buying Hatano a meal. When he wasn’t undercover playing a role, his real role as head of D-Agency didn’t leave much room to show appreciation to his spies.

            Hatano was quiet after he ordered. As expected. Useless chatter wasn’t something Yuuki encouraged. It left the door open for getting caught up in a lie. Instead he fidgeted, like a normal teenage boy who was on the hook for messing up. He kept moving his feet, like he couldn’t get comfortable, and shooting Yuuki subtle, almost hopeful little glances, and kept switching what he was doing with his hands. One minute they’d be toying with a napkin, the next drumming lightly on the table.

            But there was one gesture that didn’t quite fit with his persona, Yuuki noticed. An aborted movement toward the side of his head. He noticed Hatano make that movement twice, cancelling it each time before he actually went through with it.

            There was nothing in his mannerisms to suggest that when he made those movements, Hatano was in pain, but there was something in his eyes, hidden deep inside, that made Yuuki think otherwise.

            The first of the food came. Bread and soup, since even in wartime, the French prided themselves on their food. Hatano tore into it a little faster than was polite. He sent Yuuki a few subtle glances as if checking whether or not he disapproved. Yuuki snickered internally at the realization that those glances probably weren’t entirely an act.

            Yuuki didn’t call him out on his manners. Instead he pretended to be deeply interested in his newspaper. He didn’t comment until the waitress brought Hatano his main dish, a plate of _poule au riz_.

            “Slow down. I don’t want you to give yourself a stomach ache.”

            Hatano ducked his head. “Yes Grandfa . . .ther.”

            Yuuki’s eyes sharpened at the lapse, noting that Hatano blinked quickly, like he was trying to clear his vision. His initial instincts had been right. Not all was right with Hatano. At the very least he was in some amount of pain.

            “Don’t forget we’re leaving tomorrow. I don’t want you getting seasick tomorrow because you ate too fast tonight.”

            Like many things spies said, those two sentences carried more weight than face value showed. It was a tidbit of information that he knew Hatano had desperately been craving. Because Hatano really had no idea what was going on, beyond that his newest role was that of Yuuki’s grandson. Even if he didn’t show it, there was no way he hadn’t wanted to know what they were doing next.

            And it was also a hidden query. Yuuki’s way of asking, “Are you alright?”

            “I haven’t forgotten, Grandfather. And I’ll be fine,” said Hatano.

            Yuuki translated this into: “Travel plans for tomorrow have been acknowledged. And I’m alright.”

            Not that he completely believed the last part. It was his nature to be suspicious about everything and anything.

            Hatano did slow down his eating. The bread and soup took the edge off his hunger, so he didn’t need to inhale his _poule au riz_. Once he was finished Yuuki folded up his newspaper, paid the bill, and motioned for Hatano to follow him.

            In the connected inn, Yuuki had rented a room for the night. His own suitcase rested at the foot of one bed. Another suitcase, containing all that Hatano would need to maintain his new identity rested at the foot of the other. Yuuki wordlessly pointed at Hatano’s bed. The boy went to it and immediately opened it. His travel papers were conveniently on top. Hatano immediately sat down and began reading them.

            The bare bones of his identity as Namika Sho were all his identification papers contained. But beneath the travel papers were a bundle of personal letters that fleshed things out. Sho had been traveling abroad with his grandfather, who’d wanted to take him on a grand tour before he began university classes. France was the final stop on their tour, and tomorrow they were returning home to Japan.

            Hatano went through the papers quickly, no doubt committing every fact in them to memory, before straightening them up and packing them back away. He looked at Yuuki, subtly waiting to see if he’d be given any orders. When he wasn’t, he spoke.

            “Is it alright if I go to bed now, Grandfather?”

            Yuuki frowned at him. Among the D-Agency boys, Hatano was among the last to want to go to bed early. While some, like Tazaki, enjoyed sleeping, and a few of the older ones preferred to go to bed a little earlier than their colleagues, because they liked getting up a little earlier, Hatano was not one of them. He was always among the last to go to bed. He’d stay up later for any excuse at all.

            “First I want to know. What happened to you today? Why were you late?” Yuuki asked, sternly. “And don’t try to tell me you got lost again.”

            Spy translation: You’re going to tell me what’s wrong. Now.

            Hatano gave a slight laugh that was half a grimace of pain. “You got me. I . . . was in a little scuffle. There was a pretty girl. She had a big boyfriend. He clocked me one to the head, pretty hard.”

            “Exercise better judgement in the future,” said Yuuki sternly. He couldn’t fully get the connotations. Hatano was probably mixing in pieces of what really happened, since truths helped sell lies. But Yuuki wasn’t privy to the details of the real story yet. All he could really understand of that was that Hatano had been hit in the head, hard.

            He stood and crossed over to stand in front of Hatano, and gently reached toward his head. Hatano tensed a little, and uncertainty flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t move as Yuuki carefully lifted the strands of his hair, searching for visible signs of an injury.

            He’d guessed that the injury was in the general area that Hatano had been about to reach toward during dinner, when it looked like he was in pain earlier. His suspicions were confirmed quickly. Near Hatano’s temple, hidden by his thick hair was an ugly, painful looking bruise. One that certainly hadn’t come from any fist.

            When Yuuki’s fingers brushed against the bruise Hatano jerked away, raising his arms instinctively to fight off Yuuki. Then he realized what he was doing and quickly got himself under control, lowering his arms and sitting still again.

            “Sorry,” apologized Hatano.

            “It’s alright.”

            That made Hatano blink. In hindsight, Yuuki realized, that comment didn’t fit either his current role as a stern grandfather, or his real role as Hatano’s handler and overseer.

            Rather than try to belatedly correct it, Yuuki returned to inspecting the wound. Hatano held perfectly still as he pressed his fingers against the bruise again, trying to determine what damage had been done beneath the skin. But a hiss of pain escaped his lips.

            “When did you get this? How many _hours_ ago?”

            “Um, about four.”

            Four days, and it still looked that bad meant that it had been one hell of a blow. One that could have very easily killed Hatano. But four days without him deteriorating from it meant that he would probably be alright. As long as he didn’t get hit in the head again anytime soon. Despite Hatano’s request for a mission that required more mettle, he’d be getting easy assignments for some time to come. Head injuries were nothing to be trifled with.

            “You should be okay,” said Yuuki gruffly. “As long as you don’t get hit in the head a second time.”

            A muscle twitched in Hatano’s jaw. Suddenly his expression looked way too innocent.

            “Sho,” Yuuki said warningly.

            Hatano raised on hand and gingerly touched the back of his head. Yuuki gritted his teeth then carefully lifted the hair from the spot Hatano had touched to reveal a bump the size of a small chicken’s egg.

            Yuuki lowered his voice. “When did you get this one?”

            “A couple hours after the first, I think,” muttered Hatano.

            Two serious hits to the head like that. In the same day no less. This child was lucky to be alive. It did not set well with Yuuki to know that he had nearly lost his first agent in the field. And on what should have been a simple recon assignment. What the hell had happened?

            He would have to wait to find out.

            “Go to bed,” said Yuuki gruffly.

            He wasn’t prepared for the sharp hurt that flashed across Hatano’s face. Pain that had nothing to do with the physical kind that he was experiencing because of his head wounds.

            “I’m sorry, Grandfather,” muttered Hatano again.

            “I’m not angry with you, grandson,” said Yuuki. “But rest is the best thing for you now.”

            Hatano didn’t look completely convinced, but didn’t look quite as upset as before. He did obey Yuuki’s order, however, and pulled off his shoes, then crawled under the blankets of his bed, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow.

            Yuuki was ninety-nine percent certain Hatano was burying his face in the pillow so that he wouldn’t be putting pressure on the back of his head, where he’d taken that second hit and had that huge bump. But there was still that one percent chance that he was upset and sulking, and was using the practical reason as an excuse to bury his face in his pillow.

            So he sighed and grabbed the blankets that had gotten a little twisted when Hatano rolled under them, and had started to slump off his form, and pulled them back up and around the young spy, tucking him in.

            “Goodnight, grandson.”

            Hatano tensed in surprise, then relaxed. “Goodnight, Grandfather,” he said, voice muffled slightly by the pillow.

To be continued . . .


	2. Chapter 2

            Yuuki reflected later that it was probably good for his blood pressure that Hatano hadn’t had time to form a backstory for his role as Namika Sho before stepping into it. If the young spy had, he would have probably transferred some of his own cheekiness into his role. Hatano was one of the few people in the world who was brave or foolish enough to banter with Yuuki. And not over important things either. The teen did it on a lark. Yuuki couldn’t admit that he didn’t really mind. Hatano may have kept things interesting with his banter, but Yuuki had to maintain his air of authority in front of his spies.

            So he considered himself lucky that Hatano, knowing nothing about his role as Namika Sho, except that he was the grandson of Yuuki’s role, had chosen to play it safe when he had to create a split second persona.

            The way Hatano was playing Namika Sho now was as a respectful, devoted grandson. He was eager to please his grandfather and deferred to him in all things. From carrying Yuuki’s bags for him, to staying near him at all times, subtly glancing at him to see if anything he’d done or said had pleased him or displeased him, Hatano maintained his role at all times. But even though it made things easier for Yuuki, he couldn’t honestly say he preferred the role’s personality to Hatano’s real one. Not that he would ever tell Hatano that.

            They encountered no problems getting to their boat. Yuuki had planned things so that they’d have time to get out of the country before the news that Japan was allying itself with Germany was made public. They boarded the Hakusan Maru at the port, early in the morning and went to wait in their cabin for the next few hours.

            The cabin that Yuuki and Hatano were sharing was conveniently small, which made it easier to sweep for listening devices. Something Hatano set about doing the moment they arrived. Yuuki stood back and watched, assessing. Prompting Hatano to do a better job than he would have otherwise, probably. Or maybe not. Yuuki had faith that all his protégés were thorough in their jobs. From what he saw here, Hatano was no exception. He stripped both beds, checking the mattresses and beneath the mattresses, and crawled under the beds, opened every cabinet and drawer, pulled up the rugs. He took nearly an hour, even going so far as to unscrew the ceiling light, to make sure nothing was hidden inside before declaring the room to be free of bugs.

            “Report in full,” ordered Yuuki.

            And so Hatano did. He gave a detailed report of his activities in France, accurately describing his activities, encounters, and even his mistakes. Yuuki kept his expression steady when Hatano bluntly recounted how he’d been hit in the temple by the butt of a rifle, and how that resulted in temporary amnesia, cured by a second hit to the head, this time in the back of his head, by a pistol. He didn’t leave out the mistakes he’d made in between, such as speaking French with a Parisian accent, like a native would, instead of the Japanese accent he’d been supposed to use in his role as a student. Or how he’d woken up, brains addled, and read a Latin poetry verse backwards, in a mirror, before passing out again, and muttered the ratio of bystanders to Nazi collaborators, to resistance members while being carried around, unconscious.

            By the time Hatano wrapped his report up, Yuuki could tell he was waiting to be reprimanded. Yuuki didn’t disappoint.

            “I expect nothing less than perfection from you, no matter what your mental state.”

            “Yes sir,” Hatano said stiffly, standing at attention.

            “Divulging classified information to the enemy, even unintentionally, is not an infraction that can be overlooked.”

            “No sir.”

            “Upon our return to D-Agency, I’m requiring you to undergo another round of chemical conditioning.”

            “Yes sir.” Hatano didn’t show any emotion throughout it all, even though Yuuki knew just how much he, and the others, all hated conditioning. The chemicals left them dull and hazy for days, sometimes even a week. Yuuki had observed his usually razor sharp spies walking into walls and tripping over air after being dosed with the drugs he gave them to alter their brains, and made it possible for them to imprint their missions and important information into their subconsciousness. Quite often, those chemicals made them sick to the point where they decided to forgo food for the day.

            In any case, the threat was an empty one. This time. Hatano’s head injuries would take time to properly heal. Yuuki wasn’t going to flood his brain with drugs while it was in the middle of any healing processes. Yuuki would put it off for at least six months. Possibly longer. Hatano would only be informed of this after their return to D-Agency, after Yuuki ordered him to see a doctor and get a scan of his skull done. Then it would look like the leniency was at the orders of a doctor, rather than Yuuki being soft.

            “Now, I require honest answers to my next few questions. No posturing or downplaying your condition.” Yuuki glared a bit to reinforce that he would know if Hatano tried to do so. “How much pain are you still in?”

            “It . . . is constantly a dull ache. If I move my head too fast, or too far in any direction the pain flares up. The same as if I touch either injury.”

            “Are you experiencing any other symptoms? Vomiting or obstruction of vision?”

            “I vomited twice on my way to the rendezvous point at the church. But not since. When the pain in my head flares up, my vision often goes fuzzy. And when I stand after sitting for some time, or sit up after laying down for some time, I experience a feeling of lightheadedness. But those are minor inconveniences that have not kept me from doing what is required of me.”

            So the head injuries had given Hatano a concussion, Yuuki concluded. And he knew that Hatano knew this too, thanks to the medical courses all the spies had undergone.

            “Have you experienced anxiety, irritability, or problems sleeping?”

            “No sir.”

            “If you do, you will report it to me immediately. Along with any changes in your current condition. If the pain increases or suddenly disappears, you will inform me. And if you find yourself experiencing further memory loss, you will let me know immediately.”

            “Yes sir. Assuming I can remember that’s what I’m supposed to do, sir.” The look Hatano gave him would have been taken for full out insolence by any other ranking officer. Yuuki however, recognized it as Hatano being his usual cheeky, playful self.

            “And you will spend twelve hours in bed, every day, attempting to get as much sleep as possible,” said Yuuki.

            “What?” Hatano looked mildly horrified. For him, this was the equivalent of being told to stand in a corner for hours on end, every day.

            “You are well aware that there is no fast cure for head injuries,” Yuuki said. “Rest is the only thing that can help.”

            “Yes sir.” Hatano now looked like he was trying to figure out if he was being punished for his insolence, or if Yuuki would have given him that order anyway. Yuuki had no intention of revealing that it was the latter. He made it a point never to show his hand unless he had to.

            “One final thing. You will speak as little French as possible for the duration of this mission. Your current role’s grasp on the French language will be minimal. And you will struggle with every sentence you have to try to understand. You will pretend to have no knowledge of vocabulary and grammar covered beyond the third week of D-Agency’s French course. Limit yourself to Japanese whenever possible. No Russian. No Latin. You may use English, German, or Chinese only if it is absolutely necessary, and your grasp of them will be no better than your grasp on French. And starting now, you will adapt your role to be one of an extreme introvert. Avoid engaging or being drawn into conversations with anyone other than myself, whenever you can avoid it.”

            He could tell Hatano now really thought that he was being punished. Not just for insolence, probably, but also for the mistakes he made in his mission. He thought that Yuuki was telling him that he didn’t trust him to do any talking. In time, he’d realize that wasn’t completely true. Part of the reason for this order was because of the mistakes he’d made on the mission. He was supposed to be undercover as a student, with a good working understanding of the French language, that was by no means perfect. Instead he’d revealed that he was fluent in French, and could speak it with a Parisian accent, in front of Nazi collaborators. And he’d blown up some Nazis with flour. There was the chance that the collaborator Marie Torres had given this information to the Nazis. If they came looking for Hatano, Yuuki wanted him hidden safely behind a new disguise, that was as solid as they could make it.

            “Yes sir,” Hatano said. Then he muttered softly, “Sorry, sir.”

            Yuuki stood and moved toward the door. Very deep down, he might have felt a tiny bit of guilt about letting Hatano feel bad over something that wasn’t his fault and had been entirely outside of his control. All things considered, Hatano had done his job marvelously. Not perfectly, but he had achieved every end he’d set out to, and made it out of the situation alive, despite extremely difficult odds. But perfection was what Yuuki asked of his spies. He wasn’t stupid enough to actually expect it, but he would do his spies an injustice to let them know that. They had to always strive to be better. If they didn’t, they would sink into a decline and never reach their full potential.

            “Remain here until the ship is underway,” ordered Yuuki, and left his youngest spy in their cabin while he went out to wait on the deck.

            Leaving Hatano behind served a double purpose. Keeping him out of sight was one of the reasons. All of Yuuki’s spies were attractive, charming young men. People were drawn to them despite themselves. The more visible Hatano made himself, the harder it would be for him to comply with Yuuki’s orders of not speaking when he didn’t have to. The other reason was to force Hatano to rest. That was the only thing he could do right now to recover from his injuries.

            The real truth of the matter was that Yuuki had a bad feeling about Hatano’s head wounds. Logic told him that he had no reason to expect anything else to happen, but his intuition was warning him to be ready. And practicality told him to take every precaution he could to avoid the least desirable result.

            Yuuki was in a position that he didn’t often find himself in. One where both the role he was playing and his real role as the leader of D-Agency had the same idea about what should be a priority. And in this case taking care of Hatano was it.

 

* * *

 

 

 

            Hatano watched Yuuki leave, face impassive, until the door was shut behind him. Then he promptly turned and punched the wall.

            “Dammit!”

            That single display of anger was all that he allowed himself. In the next instant, he was back in character, once again a schoolboy on his way home from his grand tour with his beloved grandfather. But inside Namika Sho, Hatano still seethed at himself. He’d made such a mess of everything. And though his results couldn’t be argued with, the way he’d gotten them wasn’t commendable by any means. He knew that Yuuki was the type to consider not only what was achieved but how it was achieved.

            Hatano sat down and opened his suitcase. Since he had nothing better to do, he might as well reread the letters that elaborated on his cover story. He would get through the rest of this assignment without a single other slip up, no matter what. Because despite how he acted sometimes, he did respect Yuuki. Disappointing him made Hatano feel like crap. Even worse than disappointing his real father (may he rot in hell) used to.

            Hatano wasn’t delusional. He knew perfectly well that Lt. Colonel Yuuki saw his spies as subordinates rather than as sons. But it was also true that Yuuki cared about their continued survival more than anyone else. He’d given them the tools and the training to survive nearly anything. So to people with messed up homelives, like Hatano, and at least half of the other spies, it was hard not to see him as something of a father figure.

            He would do better from now on. He would be better. And he would accept the consequences for his mistakes and not try to weasel out of them, even though just the thought of chemical conditioning made Hatano feel nauseous.

            Rereading the letters actually made him feel better. While at first glance, they were innocuous and innocent, looking deeper showed them to be full of inside jokes that Hatano couldn’t help but smile at, now that he was alone, and didn’t have to worry about being serious and in character in front of Yuuki.

            In the letters, Amari was pretending to be his mother. He recognized the handwriting as Amari’s lefthanded handwriting. On several occasions, he took care to mention how Namika Sho’s big sister Miyoko was pining over a lieutenant in the Japanese army.

            Miyoshi had clearly read Amari’s letters and had retaliated in his own, disguising his handwriting as he penned letters while pretending to be Sho’s father. In them he put in several subtle digs against Sho’s mother, her intelligence, and her looks.

            No letters were included from big sister Miyoko, but there was one from Fukumoto, pretending to be his uncle, reminding him to be good and not upset Grandfather, even though Grandfather was getting peculiar and doing strange things in his old age. Hatano wondered if Yuuki had actually read that one or not.

            Then finally, there was one which Hatano couldn’t quite puzzle out the purpose of, but that made him extremely happy to see, that had been written by Jitsui. His closest friend had been undercover for nearly a year, and since he’d only written one letter, Hatano guessed that he probably still was, and that this letter had been penned quickly, at one of his check ins with whichever random D-Agency spy Yuuki assigned as his handler on a meet up by meet up basis.

            There was no relevant information in that letter, allegedly from his childhood friend “Tenshi,” which was why it puzzled Hatano. Just a hastily scrawled note in Jitsui’s left hand writing, apologizing for not writing more, telling him he hoped he was enjoying himself, and that he himself was studying hard to get into a good university. If Hatano didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that someone had arranged for Jitsui to write him for the sole purpose of brightening his day.

            But he wasn’t that naïve. He knew there had to be more to it. Though try as he might, he couldn’t figure out what.

            Hatano sighed. Maybe his head injury was slowing down his thoughts. He’d been unusually tired for the past few days. Yuuki was right, that rest was the only thing that would make him better. His fatigue was probably his body’s way of trying to heal him faster.

            Well, Hatano thought, deciding to give into his exhaustion, Yuuki had ordered him to stay here and rest. Napping was resting.

            He started to put away his letters but stopped suddenly as the door came crashing open and two German officers stomped into the cabin.

 

 

 

Notes: Sorry for the slow startup. But next chapter is where the fun starts! Please be advised, there’s hurt!Hatano on the way.


	3. Chapter 3

            “Shimano Ryousuke!?” barked one of the German officers.

            Hatano put a bewildered look on his face and looked back and forth between them. “Wh-what?”

            “We are looking for the Japanese fugitive Shimano Ryousuke. Are you him?”

            Inside, Hatano wanted to laugh in the German’s face. Yeah. Like Shimano Ryousuke would admit who he was to a couple of officers who were obviously there to black bag him.

            “I . . . no German,” Hatano said instead, in stuttering, accented French.

            “Shimano Ryousuke?” asked one of the Germans again. Like repeating it enough times would make Hatano fess up to being him.

            Hatano shook his head, ignoring the wave of dizziness that caused. He pointed to himself and introduced himself, using his horrible French. “My name Namika Sho.”

            The Germans gave him an annoyed look then turned to each other.

            “What do you think?” one of them asked in German.

            “He looks like the description we were given.”

            “You’ve said that about every suspect we’ve interviewed so far.”

            “It’s not my fault all Asians look alike!”

            “So, the usual test then?”

            “Yeah. We might as well get it over with.”

            Usual test? Hatano watched them with a careful look of confusion and fear on his face. The moment they stopped talking and started moving toward him again, however, he had figured out what the usual test must be. Their movements were clearly aggressive. And he knew that they were going to attack him.

            Marie must have filled in her Nazi friends on Shimano Ryousuke’s special skill sets. Finding people who spoke French well enough to tell if someone had a Parisian accent, or someone who spoke Latin or Russian in general was clearly too difficult. So they were focusing on the fact that Shimano had been excellent at hand to hand fighting, to try and flush him out.

            It . . . actually wasn’t a bad idea. Because the last thing any martial artist would normally do was to stand there and let someone hit him. Right then, every one of Hatano’s instincts were screaming at him to move, strike first or get ready to block. Anything.

            Instead he stood there like an idiot. Like he didn’t know what was coming.

            Because he wasn’t just a martial artist. He was a D-Agency spy. And he had already messed up too much on this mission. He wasn’t going to let Yuuki-san down again.

            But when the first punch landed right in his already injured temple, Hatano thought that maybe he’d miscalculated. Again. The world started doing somersaults. He couldn’t even feel the other blows that were landing on him, reigning down on his stomach and rib cage. But he did feel the next one that got him in the head.

            He would have fallen if they hadn’t grabbed handfuls of his shirt to keep him upright. But Hatano didn’t know that. His head was swimming in a tide of pain and confusion.

            Fight back! The boy he’d always been screamed. You’ve never just laid down and let someone steamroll you! Even when that someone was your own bastard father!

            Do nothing, the cooler, more calculating spy he was now ordered. If you fight back, it’s not just your own cover you’ll blow.

            That’s right, Hatano realized. Yuuki’s cover was at stake now too. He was Namika Sho’s grandfather. If Namika Sho turned out to be Shimano Ryousuke, that would be bad news for anyone connected with him.

            Another hit to the head finally put Hatano at his limit. He had already been crying out and yelping in pain with each punch, absently begging the Germans to stop, in Japanese and broken French. But that last hit sent him reeling, and instead of crying out anymore, he started gasping. Or hyperventilating. Tears streamed down his face, unbidden. Everything suddenly felt weird and wrong.

            One of the Germans laughed. “Ha. That doesn’t sound good.”

            “I think we broke him.”

            “I guess this one’s not our Japanese resistance fighter afterall.”

            Then he threw Hatano. Hatano couldn’t even try to get his feet beneath him. He couldn’t understand what was happening. Unbeknownst to him, he collided with the wall. That in itself didn’t hurt him any worse than he’d already been hurt. But, unable to stay on his feet, his body dropped to the floor. His head collided with Yuuki’s suitcase, which had been propped up against the wall.

            A groan rose in the back of Hatano’s throat, as he started to grey out.

            No! Stay awake!

            That’s right. He had to stay awake. There was something he had to do. He had to . . . report to Yuuki?

            Yes. Yuuki would want to know about this when he got back. Hatano had to be ready to tell him, as soon as he arrived. Yuuki wouldn’t want to waste time, waking him up. He’d get mad and beat him if –

            No. No, that wasn’t Yuuki. Yuuki had never raised a hand against Hatano.

            There were times when Hatano wished Yuuki had been his father.

            He didn’t want to let him down.

            But what if he had already?

            Hatano’s eyes started burning. A sob caught in his throat. Then another. Then Hatano was full out sobbing, blinded by his tears, and swollen eyes, and the gray specks that had been obscuring his vision. He could barely breathe. Couldn’t move. He couldn’t even lift his head off the floor. Nothing was working the way it was supposed to. He knew he needed to pull himself together before Yuuki came back and found him like this. But he didn’t know how.

            Then, suddenly gentle hands were touching him, lifting him so that he wasn’t face down on the floor anymore. One of the hands was cold, and unmoving. A prosthetic hand. The other was cool and firm, but careful, ghosting touches through his hair. Inspecting the damage done.

            Yuuki-san.

            Hatano tried to clench his teeth and to stop crying. But he couldn’t. His body was refusing to do what he told it to. He couldn’t stop crying, or sit up, or even breathe evenly. He knew that the problem stemmed back to his head. It was all kinds of messed up. But knowing that didn’t help anything. It wouldn’t stop the worst that Hatano knew was yet to come from happening.

            He could almost feel himself slipping away. Back toward that feeling he’d had when he woke up in the guise of Shimano Ryousuke, and hadn’t known who he was or what he was supposed to be doing. He didn’t think you were supposed to be able to feel brain damage. But he was pretty sure he did.

            And if he couldn’t feel it, well, he was absolutely certain that he could hear it. It sounded like a fire siren, pounding in his ears. With a much softer counterpoint, that sounded almost like Lt. Colonel Yuuki, whispering to him.

            “You’re going to be alright. I’ll take care of everything. It’s going to be alright.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Yuuki knew there was going to be trouble the moment he saw the German officers on the ship. They were speaking with a member of the crew who’d been acting as a greeter and porter, speaking to all the passengers as they boarded, and helping them get situated if they needed it. He saw the porter point at him, and mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

            “Namika-san. Pardon the interruption, but you boarded with a teenage boy, didn’t you? Where is he now?” asked the porter, hurrying over to him. The Germans stood several feet behind.

            “My grandson? Why? What’s this about?” Yuuki asked, none too pleasantly. His role would not appreciate servants nosing into his family’s business.

            “These officers are looking for a teenage Japanese boy wanted for instigating rebellion and violence against German troops,” the porter said. “I’m sorry, Namika-san, but this is a serious matter. They want to speak to every teenage boy who boards this ship before it departs.”

            Damn it. If Yuuki had known they were going to run into something like this, he would have had Hatano’s role be as his granddaughter instead of his grandson.

            “My grandson hasn’t instigated anything,” said Yuuki, aristocratic and cold. “Aside from not having the spine, he hasn’t had the time. I’ve barely had a moment to myself this entire trip, with him following me everywhere like a dog.”

            “All the same, they do need to speak with him, Namika-san. This isn’t merely a request.”

            Of course it wasn’t. And Yuuki hadn’t really believed he could deter them. He would have to put his faith in Hatano now, to play his role correctly. He wasn’t worried about that. He’d trained Hatano himself. Hatano would do what it took to get them off his trail.

            But he still had a bad feeling about this.

            “He’s in our cabin,” Yuuki said. “Let them speak with him if they must.”

            He walked away then, hearing the porter giving his cabin number to the Germans. Then he continued to walk, in the opposite direction of his cabin. He had the feeling that if he was present while the Germans questioned Hatano, then things would take a turn for the worse. He could see it in those men’s eyes that they were the sort to take advantage of their power. Terrorizing a teenage boy would be fun. But terrorizing a teenage boy while his grandfather looked on, helplessly, well that would be even better for them. And worse for Yuuki and Hatano.

            Later, Yuuki would regret that line of reasoning. Even though he knew his assessment had most likely been accurate, he couldn’t help but feel like he should have been there. And like he should have done something.

            He knew it was bad the moment he reached the threshold of his room, some fifteen minutes later. The door had been left ajar. He could hear sobbing before he even set foot inside. And when he did cross into the room, the sight made his blood run cold. Because Hatano was lying facedown on the floor, in a puddle of blood, sobbing and shaking in a way that Yuuki knew was no act.

            He mentally swore and shut the door behind him, locking it hastily.

            “Sho? Sho!”

            Hatano didn’t respond to his voice.

            Yuuki knelt beside him and started trying to check his headwounds. One of them was the cause of all the blood pooled on the floor. But it was already clear that the blood was the last of his worries. Because Yuuki realized Hatano wasn’t just crying. He was _convulsing_. His brain had been traumatized to the point where it couldn’t regulate. For all Yuuki knew, it could be on the brink of shutting down. And if it was, there wasn’t a thing that he, or anyone else in the world could do about it.

            Even if he was in the best hospital in the world, they would be just as helpless to save Hatano as Yuuki was, here alone, in that cabin. Cold comfort, though that was, it at least eliminated a little bit of the guilt Yuuki would have felt. He wouldn’t have to make a decision to either sacrifice his spy to salvage the mission, or save his spy at the possible expense of the mission, because there was nothing that could be done to help Hatano now. His fate was completely out of modern medicine’s hands.

            But Yuuki would do what he could for him, little though that was. Carefully, more carefully than he’d ever been before, he gathered the boy into his arms, heedless of the blood that was liberally smeared on his suit in the process.

            He’s light, Yuuki mused as he moved Hatano to the closest bed. He’s still a child. What am I doing, dragging children into this war?

            He laid Hatano down, taking extra care with his head. As soon as Hatano was laying down, and Yuuki was no longer touching him, he heard the teenager whimper. One of his hands twitched, like it was reaching for something. And he uttered a sob that seemed a little more desperate. Had he been able to recognize Yuuki’s presence? Was he reacting to the loss of it now?

            Without thinking, Yuuki took Hatano’s hand in his own, uninjured hand. Immediately, Hatano’s fingers tightened around his. Hatano whimpered again then, just a soft little noise, but to Yuuki, it seemed like a sound of relief.

            Was Hatano still in there? Trapped in a state of semi-consciousness? Did he know how much danger his life was in right now? If he did, he certainly knew that there was nothing Yuuki or anyone could do to save him now. So why would he be reaching out for Yuuki?

            Maybe he was still trying to fulfil his role. Namika Sho would have reached out for his grandfather, because Namika Sho loved his grandfather. Even though there was nothing his grandfather could do, he’d still want to be comforted by his grandfather. And his grandfather, gruff though he was supposed to be, would comfort him in a situation like this.

            So Yuuki curled his fingers tighter around Hatano’s, and gently moved his prosthetic hand to brush across Hatano’s face, just the way he imagined Namika Senior would. But when he was spoke, he was surprised to find that the words weren’t his role’s. They were his own.

            “You’re going to be alright,” he whispered to his spy. “I’ll take care of everything. It’s going to be alright.”

            Pretty lies that he wanted to be true. But even while he said them, his mind was already forming contingency plans.

            The fact that Hatano was in a state like this, unable to consciously move, or act under his own accord, meant that the situation was likely to have a horrible outcome. Chances of him dying were high. Yuuki needed to face the fact that he was likely to have a body on his hands, very soon.

            If that happened, he would have to notify the crew. He already had what he would say planned out. Sho had been a bit listless after the Germans hit him in the head, but hadn’t seemed in too bad a way. Then, he just fell asleep, and never woke up. The ship’s doctor would buy it. Scenarios like that happened entirely too often. And with Yuuki, playing the part of an outraged, grieving grandfather, no one would doubt it. But even now, he wondered how much of that role would be an act.

            “Shit,” Yuuki muttered.

            Hatano gave another little whimper. Unlike the last one, this one sounded distraught again. Reminding Yuuki that the boy might still be in there somewhere, clinging to consciousness, or life, itself, as best he could. Yuuki didn’t want to do anything to risk loosening that tenuous hold.

            More comforting words might be helpful. But Yuuki found he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even find words that would suit his role in this situation. Something that had never happened to him before. He’d been in countless situations on his missions where he’d comforted children, sometimes to ingratiate himself into a certain scenario, sometimes to manipulate that child for the sake of his mission. But now he realized, he’d never sat with one who might be dying. And this was made all the more difficult because he knew this child. And he didn’t want this child to die. More than anything right now, Yuuki wanted Hatano to live.  

           A long buried memory stirred in Yuuki’s mind. A song from long, long ago. One that had been sung to him, to comfort him when he was a child.

 

            “Leaves from the vine

            Falling so slow

            Like fragile, tiny shells

            Drifting in the foam

            Little soldier boy

            Come marching home

            Brave soldier boy

            Comes marching home.”

 

            Miraculously, as Yuuki sang, Hatano’s sobbing convulsions slowed to the point where they nearly stopped. By the end of the song, it just looked like he was shivering franticly. It seemed like a good sign. But Yuuki knew it could just as easily mean that Hatano’s condition was deteriorating, and his brain was shutting down.

            Then Hatano tried to speak. “G . . . rand . . . fa . . .”

            Something in Yuuki’s chest tightened. His spy might be dying, but was still clinging to his mission. He squeezed Hatano’s hand tighter.

            “I’m right here, my boy,” Yuuki said gruffly. He blinked several times against the burning of his eyes.

            “Sor . . . ry.”

            “It’s alright.”

            “Might . . . br . . . eak . . . rule.”

            “What?” Then Yuuki realized what Hatano was talking about. The rule. The only one that really mattered at D-Agency. Don’t die. Don’t kill. “No. You’re not. That’s an order.”

            Hatano didn’t answer.

            Yuuki dropped his voice to whisper level. “Hatano?”

            “Hard . . . to . . . hold . . . on . . . Slip . . . ping . . .”

            Yuuki took this to mean that Hatano’s hold on consciousness was weakening. And they both knew that when Hatano inevitably went under, he might never wake again. It was a coin toss whether or not his brain had sustained too much damage for him to come back from it.

            “Do your best,” said Yuuki, after a long, strained pause. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Telling Hatano it was alright to let go and sleep seemed callous. Telling him to hold on and try to stay awake seemed cruel. “Do your best to get through this. I’ll take care of the rest.”

            Hatano didn’t respond for several long, long seconds. His shivering had decreased another level. Yuuki wondered if maybe he’d already drifted off.

            But then Hatano spoke again, and his words were like a vice around Yuuki’s heart.

            “Stay . . . with . . . me?”

            There were probably seven other people Hatano would have rather had by his side than Yuuki in this situation. Perhaps six, if Yuuki was an ultra-optimist. But none of them were on hand now. Yet even if they were, right here was where Yuuki would still want to be, using his rank to get there if need be. Because here was where he needed to be. He wouldn’t leave Hatano alone.

            “I’ll stay,” said Yuuki, squeezing Hatano’s hand again. “I’ll be right here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Notes:  Yes.  I stole the song from Avatar the Last Airbender.  Because I loved that mini episode.  And the image of Yuuki singing that song to one of his ~~children~~ spies is enough to melt my fangirling heart.  Can you tell the places where he actually slips out of his role and is just himself? 

 

Legal Disclaimer: Back in those days, there wasn’t much that doctors could do to treat people with traumatic brain injuries. But things are different now. So if someone you know gets a concussion or worse, don’t be like Yuuki. Take them to a hospital. All my medical knowledge comes from Wikipedia, so please don’t use it as the basis for anything.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

            Yuuki had been in many bad situations before. There had been times when a mission had gone sideways, and he was smack in the middle of it, and the only thing he could do was wait for everything to go to hell. And there was that time he’d been betrayed, his cover blown, and he was captured and tortured, which resulted in the loss of his hand. But right now, he truly believed that this was the worst situation he’d ever been in. Waiting to see if his spy would live or die, and unable to influence the outcome.

            Well . . . he could influence it. Just not in a positive way. And it did occur to Yuuki that it might be the humane thing to do if the worst happened. Because the worst was not Hatano dying. The worst was him waking up only to live out the rest of his life as an empty shell. Brain damage could be a terrible thing. And Yuuki felt certain that Hatano would rather die than live without his mental acuity, unable to even think clearly, take care of himself, or ever recover. If the worst happened, Yuuki might break D-Agency’s rule, as a mercy to his spy. A pillow over his face would put an end to his suffering, and no ship-board doctor would be able to tell that it hadn’t been the headwound to kill him.

            Three days, Yuuki spent in that cabin, never leaving Hatano’s side for more than a few minutes. The crew had been made aware that Namika Sho was injured. They’d been useful for fetching basic medical supplies and bringing food. But Yuuki hadn’t told them how bad Hatano’s injury really was. As far as they knew, the boy was bedridden, but awake and aware. Not lying in a coma from which he might never awake.

            Yuuki took care of him the best he could. He stitched up the cut on Hatano’s head and dressed the wound. Several times each day, he sat Hatano up, so that he could pour either broth or water down his throat. He took it as a good sign that Hatano’s body never rebelled and threw up after those instances. The first night, Hatano had a fever, so Yuuki stayed awake until it broke, wiping his face down with cool water. Mostly he simply sat beside the boy, holding his hand.

            That was what he was doing when Hatano awoke. The only warning that Yuuki had was a slight bit of pressure on his fingers, when suddenly, Hatano sat straight up.

            His eyes were wider than normal, as he stared at Yuuki, then down at their clasped hands, then quickly around the room, taking in everything at a glance, before looking back at Yuuki.

            His eyes held no recognition.

            “Why am I on a boat?” demanded Hatano.

            Well. That was not the first question Yuuki had expected to be asked. But he welcomed it. It gave him time to sound out the waters, see how Hatano was going to react, and what, if anything, he remembered.

            “Because we’re on our way home to Japan,” said Yuuki. “How is your head?”

            Hatano hesitated. Yuuki could almost hear the teen’s subconscious telling him not to give the enemy any information. Hm, it seemed that his subliminal programming was still well in effect. But as both a test and a failsafe, Yuuki decided to use one of the backup plans that he’d embedded into Hatano’s, as well as all his other spies’ subconscious, in case he ever found himself in a situation like this one, with one of them.

            “Never trust anyone who calls himself a demon,” Yuuki said, keeping his voice very low, and switching his language to Latin.

            As he watched, Hatano’s eyes dilated as the subliminal trigger activated. But other than that, he didn’t react to Yuuki’s words. If anyone had been watching it would have seemed that he hadn’t even heard Yuuki speak. Inside his mind, however, a metaphorical key had been turned, and Hatano was finding that he suddenly trusted the one who’d just spoken that phrase, even though his mind was unable to remember even hearing it spoken.

            “My head . . . it hurts,” said Hatano, answering Yuuki’s question.

            “How bad?”

            “Pretty bad . . . and . . .”

            “And?” prompted Yuuki.

            Hatano’s expression turned miserable. “I don’t know . . . anything. I can’t remember anything. I -” he suddenly winced against the pain in his head.

            Yuuki touched his shoulder in what he knew to be a comforting manner for most people. That, combined with the subliminal directive he’d given Hatano to trust him, should have gotten him a positive reaction, or at least a neutral one. Instead Hatano flinched away from him, then cried out and grabbed his head.

            And now Yuuki had to make a quick decision. Did he tell Hatano the truth? That he was a spy and that they were undercover, on their way home from a mission that had turned much more complicated than it should have? Or did he play it safe?

            Safe won out. Especially when Hatano cringed away from him again. It seemed perhaps his subliminal conditioning hadn’t held up under so much mental abuse after all, and the code phrase that should have gotten him in Hatano’s good books, if not his complete trust, hadn’t worked as well as it should have.

            “Sho? Are you saying you don’t remember who you are?” Yuuki asked. “You don’t remember . . . me?”

            Hatano looked at him with undisguised fear. “Are you . . . my father?”

            “No,” said Yuuki. He could feel a heavy weight settling down over him. “I’m your grandfather.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Waking up and not knowing who he was or what was going on was an extremely disconcerting experience. But one that Sho (was he really Sho?) found felt almost familiar for some reason.

            His mind was struggling to make connections and apply them to what he was seeing. It was odd to not recognize a single thing in the room, but to know without a doubt that he was in an ocean liner cabin, on the high seas. And the man who’d been holding his hand when he awoke was a study in contradictions.

            Sho’s (that name didn’t feel right) first thought was that the man was his father. But as soon as that thought settled in his mind, the comfort he’d felt at the sight of the man turned to fear, for some inexplicable reason. Then, without warning, his fear had melted away. Only to return with a vengeance when the man reached out to grab him. Sho didn’t know why, but he had been certain he was about to be hit. Hard.

            The ringing in his ears didn’t help his level of confusion. But for some reason his panic subsided when the man told Sho that he was his grandfather. That seemed like a relief for some reason.

            “My grandfather,” he said, as much to himself as his grandfather. “Not my father?”

            “No,” Grandfather said.

            Confusion swam through Sho’s head again. He felt something that felt like disappointment now. His head was all mixed up.

            “But why can’t I remember you?” Sho asked miserably.

            “You were hit in the head,” said Grandfather. “You don’t remember?”

            “I don’t remember anything.”

            His grandfather studied him carefully. Sho felt like his very soul was being pierced by that gaze, as his grandfather started to explain.

            “Shortly after we boarded the Hakusan Maru, several German officers came aboard. They were looking for a Japanese student named Shimano, who had stirred up some trouble in France, aiding the Resistance.”

            Pain spiked through Sho’s head. Images entered his mind. Two men, one woman. A gun with a bent piece of metal jammed inside it, fouling the trigger. Flour and a bellows. An explosion.

            “Sho?”

            A hand on his shoulder. Grandfather’s worried voice. Sho realized that he was gripping his head in both hands.

            “What is it? Do you remember something?”

            More images. And words this time.

            _“Alain Lernier,”_ said one of the men, holding out his hand for a handshake.

            _“Shimano Ryousuke,”_ responded Sho, taking the Frenchman’s hand in his own and gripping it firmly, the way he would a friend’s.

            What was that? Were those memories?

            “Sho? Do you remember something?” asked Grandfather again.

            “I – no,” said Sho. Or was he Shimano?

            _Don’t give the enemy any information._

            That voice again. The one that sounded like his own voice. But his grandfather wasn’t the enemy. Was he? No, his grandfather wasn’t his father. Wait, what did that have to do with anything? Why would his father be an enemy . . .

            “My head hurts,” said Shimano, no Sho, through gritted teeth. That wasn’t a lie, at least. His head did hurt. A lot. “Sorry.”

            “It’s alright.”

            _“You’re going to be alright. I’ll take care of everything. It’s going to be alright.”_ The words echoed in his mind, in his grandfather’s voice. He would have sworn he heard Grandfather say them to him. Not now. But before.

            “Are you really my grandfather?”

            The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

            There was a pause before his grandfather answered. Hesitation because of a lie? Or because of shock?

            “Yes.”

            “Why are you with me? Where are my parents?” asked Sho. (No, not Sho. That wasn’t right dammit. But if he wasn’t Sho, who was he?) “Where’s my father?”

            “You and your father don’t get along very well, Sho,” said Grandfather. “That’s why you chose to live with me. And your mother . . . she passed on when you were very young.”

            That . . . actually sounded right.

            “Sho, you asked about your father but not your mother. Are you remembering something?” Grandfather asked.

            “I don’t know.”

            “Don’t force yourself,” Grandfather said, touching his shoulder again. This time he didn’t feel the overwhelming desire to yank away. He was startled to find himself actually leaning into the touch. “Your mind has been damaged by that hit you took to your head. It will heal. It just needs time.”

            A lie. Or not a lie, but not a whole truth. Grandfather couldn’t know that his memories would come back. No one could. Head injuries were among the most difficult to deal with because they affected everyone differently.

            And just how did Sho know that?

            Everything was so confusing.

            “Try to go back to sleep, if you can,” said Grandfather.

            Sleep. That sounded good about now. Even though he just woke up.

            He felt himself sliding back down onto his bed, the pillow beneath his head. The back of his head ached a little bit where it made contact, but the sides of his head hurt so much worse that he almost couldn’t notice that. Thankfully, the dark, numbness of sleep was starting to set in over him. Soon it would smother the pain.

            “Stay with me?” he asked his grandfather.

            Another hesitation. But maybe that was only because Grandfather took the time to reach for his hand, taking it in his own.

            “I’ll stay. I’ll be right here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            When Hatano’s breathing evened out, and Yuuki was sure he was asleep, he released the boy’s hand, so that he could press it to his own forehead. This had turned into a mess.

            He could see now that Hatano’s memories clearly weren’t too far below the surface. They were wrapped in confusion, and he was getting them mixed up, but they were there. More than that, they were strong.

            Yuuki was certain that it was Hatano’s fear of his father that had overridden the subliminal message Yuuki had given him to trust him. Hatano, for some reason, had thought Yuuki was his father upon first seeing him. Then, his fear kicked in, and his survival instinct had trumped Yuuki’s mental trick.

            That was why Yuuki had told Hatano the truth about his parents, instead of the cover story that had been prepared. Because when he remembered, which Yuuki was sure he would, if he learned that Yuuki had lied to him before he remembered everything, there would have been major problems. Now, if he remembered about his father before he remembered his life at D-Agency, he wouldn’t necessarily think that Yuuki had lied to him about being his grandfather. Yuuki knew for a fact that Hatano had never known either of his grandfathers.

            While he was thinking about it, Yuuki went to Hatano’s suitcase and opened it. As he expected, the letters that helped flesh out the cover story for Namika Sho were right at the top. Yuuki removed them and folded them in half, so that they would fit into a hidden pocket inside his suit. He would toss them over the rail, the next time he went on deck. It wouldn’t do to have Hatano discovering them before he remembered, and starting to think that everything Yuuki told him was a lie.

            That done, Yuuki sat down beside Hatano’s bed again and took Hatano’s hand in his own again. Because when Hatano woke up once more, he wanted the boy to reinforce his perception of Yuuki as a loving grandfather. With this situation, he was going to need every edge he could get.

            Perhaps he should have told Hatano the truth. Even though it sounded unbelievable, with Hatano’s memories as close to the surface as they were, it might have had the ring of truth to it. But Hatano’s initial distrust of him, and the way he’d overridden the order imprinted on his subconscious to trust the one who’d said they key phrase, had made it seem like a bad idea at the time. Yuuki had made a split second decision, doing what he thought was best as he was doing it, based on the available information at the time. Now, he would stick with the course he’d chosen. At least until he felt that Hatano was in a position to listen to any game changing revelations.

            You’re more trouble than you’re worth, boy, Yuuki thought, looking down at Hatano’s deceptively innocent looking expression as he slept.

            He didn’t say that aloud because he didn’t want it reaching Hatano’s subconscious mind and making things harder for him than they had to be. But also because he didn’t really mean it. While this situation was undeniably troublesome, it was nowhere near approaching levels that would make any one of his spies not worth it.

            And if nothing else, it would make the voyage interesting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Notes: So, this might not have been what you were expecting. Then again, some of you seemed to be expecting exactly this. (Points at Kajo and Carrot_Bunny and shouts “THEM!”) But I thought it would be an interesting twist to try on an amnesia story. Usually people around the person with amnesia try to prompt the amnesiac into remembering as fast as possible, and getting them back to themselves, with very little deception involved. Or if it’s a cartoon, they might end up with their enemies, who try to use them against their friends, until all their memories inevitably come back at once and they switch back to their original side.

 

But here we have Yuuki trying to get Hatano to remember what his role is supposed to be, and prioritizing getting him to play his role over regaining his real memories, because they’re undercover, dammit. Not that he doesn’t want Hatano to regain all his memories, because he does. But he figures it’s best to prioritize the mission, because until it’s over, and they’re back at D-Agency, there’s no guarantee of their safety, and their ability to blend in and appear as people they’re not is their best defense. And Hatano knows that something’s off, but is having a hard time making heads or tails of what’s happening. And his memories are coming back, but they’re disjointed, so he’s confused.

 

There are still a few more problems ahead for Yuuki and Hatano. Things like the nerve frying headaches for Hatano, and the guilt and difficulty remaining objective for Yuuki, because this kid believes he’s his grandfather, believes he cares about him, and he does care about him in his way, but he’s lying to him all the same . . . They’re both lost in their roles, but for different reasons.


	5. Chapter 5

            The dream was so vivid that it had to be based on memory. He knew that, even if he didn’t know who he was. Or who all these other men in suits were all around him.

            He felt out of place, as he took a seat at one of several dozen desks. Everyone there was older than him. And taller. A number of them were giving him incredulous looks. It was clear they thought he didn’t belong.

            Maybe he didn’t. He kind of felt like he’d never belonged anywhere. But he was here now, and time would tell if here was where he would stay.

            At the front of the room, an older man with a cane (Grandfather?) walked to the center to address them.

            “You know who I am. You know why you’re here. I see no reason to waste time giving a speech about what you already know. What you don’t yet know, is how likely you are to fail. The first half of this program is not to train you. It is to weed out unsuitable candidates. Those without the modicum of athletic ability and mental prowess required by the second half of the course, the part where you actually learn the techniques of our trade, are not worthy to learn them.”

            For someone who claimed he wasn’t here to give a speech, the old man was giving a pretty rousing one. But he found that he wasn’t so interested in that as several other small details about this man.

            Like for one, the old man didn’t need that cane. He knew movement. He knew balance. And he knew that this man’s limp was fake. Kind of like his hand. The one that didn’t have a glove on it.

            This man was coming before them in a disguise.

            He thought that was kind of cool. It kind of made him want to take on one of his own. But how to go about it?

            Oh! He could let his eyes droop more than usual. He knew his eyes were already heavy lidded, but letting them lower more changed his appearance. And maybe picking out a signature pose would be useful too? He’d have to think about it.

            Gramps was still talking. Bla-bla-bla necessary survival skills, bla-bla-bla new identities. Oh? Were that what those folders were for?

            He opened the one on the desk in front of his, as everyone else opened their own as well.

            “These are your new identities. Your new names. Your new backstories,” the old man said. “And these are the only things that will protect whatever family you’ve left behind.”

            He almost snorted out loud at that. But he resisted. Chances were some of these people were leaving decent families behind. People they cared about protecting. They’d take any humor he found in his own situation as ridicule for theirs. No sense in painting a target on his back the very first day of training. He already stood out enough, just by virtue of being the youngest and smallest.

            “Anyone who introduces himself by real name, or divulges any information about his true past will be expelled from training immediately.”

            Yikes. Grampa was serious. Well, it’s not like he had much to worry about. He had no attachment to any part of his old life. Not even his name. It was kind of hard to have an attachment to your name when you’d been named after someone you hated so much.

            He took a closer look at his folder, and for the first time, read his new name.

            Hatano, huh? Not bad. He liked it.

 

* * *

 

 

            Hatano opened his eyes. His head was ringing like a bell. And he felt entirely awful.

            He took in his surroundings as he tried to puzzle out his situation. He was in a cabin on a ship. Same as he’d been last time he awoke. He couldn’t remember how he got there. But he remembered the explanation his grandfather had given him.

            Sho – no, not Sho. Hatano. Hatano felt right. Sho didn’t. Hatano carefully turned his head to study his grandfather. The old man had fallen asleep in the chair beside his bed. He was still holding Hatano’s hand. And that hand was clearly flesh and blood. But his other hand . . . that one was prosthetic. Much like the old man’s in Hatano’s dream/memory.

            So that meant . . . what? He had no idea.

            He tried to sit up. His movement woke Grandfather, who rubbed his prosthetic hand over his face, as though trying to chase away sleep. Then he seemed to remember the situation.

            “Sho? How are you feeling?”

            “My head hurts,” Hatano said.

            “I’m sorry, my boy. Do you remember anything?”

            He started to shake his head to indicate the negative. But pain flared up and had him clenching his head.

            “Easy, grandson,” Grandfather said. He put a hand on Hatano’s shoulder. His movements, Hatano noticed, were stiff. Sleeping in that chair had done him no favors.

            Guilt. Hatano shouldn’t have asked that of him. Warmth. The old man had done it without hesitation. Confusion. Something seemed wrong about that scenario. Hatano felt like the old man shouldn’t have done that, even if he’d asked him to. Like it wasn’t something he would have normally done.

            But that didn’t make sense. His grandfather clearly loved him. You did things like that for people you loved, right?

            “Does it hurt to try and remember? Or because you tried to shake your head?” Grandfather asked gently.

            “Because I tried to shake my head,” Hatano answered.

            A cool hand brushed against his brow.

            “Don’t push yourself, Sho. You always try too hard.”

            “Do I?” asked Hatano.

            “What?”

            “Am I that kind of person?” He looked at his grandfather. “It’s . . . weird and scary, not even knowing what kind of person I am.”

            “I’m sorry, boy.” Grandfather said. “You don’t deserve this.”

            “Can you help me? Can you fill in some of the blanks for me?” Hatano asked. “I want to remember. Maybe if I have a starting point.”

            “Well,” said Grandfather. “We were on a grand tour. I wanted you to see the world before you started attending a university.”

            “I didn’t already go to a university?” Hatano remembered his dream/memory. Everyone there had been older than him. Older than high school aged. So if that wasn’t a university than what was it?

            “No. You’re only seventeen.”

            “And what were my test scores like?”

            An odd look crossed Grandfather’s face. “Consistently at the top of your class.”

            “I’m smart then?” Hatano stared down at his hands. “I don’t feel smart right now. I don’t know anything anymore.”

            “It will come back to you,” Grandfather said. “Just give it time.”

            Hatano’s stomach chose that moment to growl. He flushed, suddenly embarrassed, but not sure why. It seemed like this had happened before.

            “Hungry?” Grandfather asked.

            Hatano was about to nod, then realized that would be a very bad idea. “I think so.”

            “I’ll see about getting us some food,” said Grandfather. “Will you be alright alone for just a few minutes?”

            “Yes.”

            Grandfather patted his arm again, and stood up. “Then I’ll be right back.”

            There was an interesting noise as he stood. A crinkling, like paper.

            Secret documents hidden inside his suit!

            Hatano had no idea where that had come from. But it seemed that the part of him buried underneath his memory loss was very excited about the idea of hidden documents.

            It could just be a newspaper, he tried arguing with himself.

            Who hides a newspaper in their jacket? scoffed that voice inside him. The only reason you hide papers on your person is if they’re important!

            That sounded plausible.

            We need to see what’s on those papers, said that voice.

            We are not pickpocketing Grandfather! he argued back. We don’t even know how!

            Don’t we?”

            Hatano closed his eyes. Somehow it kind of did feel like he might know how to pickpocket someone. But stealing was wrong. And stealing from Grandfather was especially wrong.

            If the man was his grandfather. He certainly acted like his grandfather. At the very least, he was concerned about Hatano’s wellbeing. And since he was the only one in the world right now, that Hatano knew was, stealing from him was definitely wrong.

            Hm. Were there other people in the world who cared about him? His father . . . just thinking about his father caused an inexplicable sense of dread to crash over him. So probably not his father. His mother was dead. What about other family? Aunts and uncles? Sisters or brothers?

            Nothing came to mind when he thought of aunts and uncles, or sisters. But brothers . . . he felt something when he thought about brothers, he swore he could see something in his mind’s eye.

 

* * *

 

 

            A group of men in suits, seated around a table, playing poker. All of them cheating. Amari was getting signs from Odagiri. Tazaki was dealing from the bottom of the deck. Miyoshi was signaling either Fukumoto or Kaminaga. Probably Kaminaga. Hatano himself had a few extra cards up his sleeve.

            “Five aces. Beat that, if you can,” he crowed.

            Groans all around. “Hatano. You can’t do that. We’ve already explained the rules –”

            “Which were cheat as much as possible.”

            “Believable cheating. The kind that wouldn’t be picked up on by some poor fool who sat down with us and thought that the card game going on at the table was an actual, legit poker game.”

            “Ara?” asked a boy with black hair and an angel’s face. “Does that mean my hand doesn’t count either?”

            And with a cherubic smile, he laid his hand, consisting of five jokers, down on the table.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Sho?”

            Grandfather had returned. His hand was cool against Hatano’s brow.

            “Are you alright, Sho?”

            Hatano’s head felt like it was being split open. When he looked at his grandfather, he saw double. “Do I . . . do I have any brothers?”

            The look Grandfather gave him was . . . odd.

            “No,” he finally said. “You don’t have any siblings.”

            Then who were Amari, Odagiri, Tazaki, Miyoshi, and Kaminaga? And the black haired boy with the angel smile? That one felt especially important.

            He growled in frustration.

            “Sho?”

            Grandfather’s expression showed nothing but concern. But Hatano knew that there was something hidden behind it. A core of calculation.

            Could Hatano really trust this man who kept calling him by what he knew was the wrong name?

            Instantly, he felt ashamed of himself for the thought. Hadn’t Grandfather slept sitting upright in that uncomfortable chair, who knew how long, just because Hatano asked him to stay?

            Because that’s what you do when you’re playing a role, said that nasty voice in his mind. You act. You play the part.

            “Why don’t you try to eat something, Sho?” asked Grandfather. He carefully set a tray in Hatano’s lap. Grandfather uncovered them to reveal foods that Hatano was pleased he could recognize. Plain white rice. Miso soup. And a small dish of scrambled eggs. All of them steamed with warmth.

            “It’s breakfast time?” he asked. Because the food was fresh, and the right things to be served for breakfast. And he didn’t think Grandfather had been gone long enough for someone to fix all of these up specially for him.

            “Yes,” Grandfather said. “It’s morning, in the local time. Not that we are really near any locals. We’re in the middle of the ocean.”

            “Going home to Japan,” Hatano remembered. He felt pleased with himself for being able to recall this.

            “Yes. Why don’t you try to see if you can eat?” Grandfather suggested. “You need to regain your strength.”

            “Oh. Right.” Hatano picked up the chopsticks on the plate and promptly dropped them. They rolled off the bed and onto the floor. “Oh! Sorry!”

            He moved to try to go after them, nearly upsetting the whole tray. Grandfather caught him by both shoulders before he could do so.

            “Whoa, son. Careful.”

            “Oh!” Hatano’s face colored. “I’m sorry!”

            “It’s alright. You’re alright,” Grandfather said. He was about to move to retrieve the chopsticks, but was stopped when Hatano clung to him.

            “I feel so stupid and useless right now.”

            “No. Don’t say that,” Grandfather said. There was a catch to his voice. “Never say that. You’re injured. And you’ve been asleep for days. Your body is weak from lack of food, and because your brain is trying to heal itself. You’ll be fine, Sho. And you are not stupid or useless.”

            He sounded so sincere.

            It really made Hatano feel bad about lifting those documents out of the hidden pocket inside Grandfather’s jacket. Though an inexplicable part of him thought that for some reason Grandfather should have been proud of him for managing to extract them.

            He hid them under his pillow one handed. That would stop Grandfather from hearing the crinkle of the papers every time he moved. Hatano wouldn’t repeat that kind of rookie mistake.

            “Are . . . are you not eating now, Grandfather?”

            “I’ll eat in a bit,” said Grandfather. When Hatano stopped clinging to him, he bent to retrieve the chopsticks, and wiped them off with a washcloth from the water basin on the other side of the room. “I thought you might need a little bit of help eating, so I decided to wait to get my food.”

            “I’m sorry,” Hatano said, bowing his head.

            “It’s alright.”

            Hatano’s fingers weren’t nearly as clumsy as he pretended they were. He didn’t want to make Grandfather suspicious. He pretended to struggle for a few minutes before managing to get them under good enough control that he could shakily lift the rice and egg into his mouth. When he lifted the soup bowl, Grandfather was there, keeping one hand on it to steady it. It was a little embarrassing. But necessary for the role he was playing.

            “Thank you,” said Hatano, staring at his lap when he was finished.

            “You’re welcome,” Grandfather said simply. He moved the dishes and tray aside, then touched Hatano’s forehead again.

            Hatano looked at him curiously.

            “It felt for a moment earlier like you might be getting a fever again,” Grandfather explained. “You’re a little warm. But right now, I don’t think it will be a problem.”

            “I had a fever before?”

            “Yes. But it broke the second day you were asleep. You were out for three days,” he said, when he saw Hatano open his mouth to ask. “Yesterday evening was the third day, when you finally woke up.”

            There was no faking the relief in his voice.

            “I’m sorry to have worried you, Grandfather.”

            “It’s alright.” Grandfather removed his hand from Hatano’s forehead. “Just do your best to get better.”

            _“Do your best. Do your best to get through this. I’ll take care of the rest.”_

            Hatano winced.

            “Sho?”

            “Sorry. I’m fine. Just the headache, still. I . . . I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, Grandfather,” said Hatano. “That might not mean a lot. And I know it has to be really hard for you that I don’t . . . don’t really remember you.” His voice cracked. But he kept going. “But I really appreciate you taking care of me. I don’t know where I’d be or what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

            Grandfather’s expression was clouded, and maybe a little pained.

            “I’m glad that I can be here,” he said. “Whether you remember me or not, I hope you still know . . . that you are very important to me.”

            It was awkward and embarrassing. Hatano had the feeling neither he nor Grandfather were the type to really discuss their feelings. He looked away. Grandfather stood.

            “I’m going to return these dishes, and get some food for myself,” Grandfather said. “If you think you’ll be alright for a few minutes on your own?”

            “Oh. Yes. I’ll be fine,” said Hatano. “And please, don’t hurry back just for me. You’ve been cooped up here with me for days. Please, take your time. Eat in the dining hall, if you like. I’ll be fine.”

            “I’ve been here because I wanted to be here,” said Grandfather. “And I don’t want to leave you alone for too long, just yet, since you’ve only just woken up. A few minutes is all the time I’ll need.”

            Somehow, that made Hatano happy and disappointed him at the same time. He didn’t know why, but he hated the idea of being left alone. But unless Grandfather left him alone, how was he supposed to read these documents that he’d just stolen?

            He watched as Grandfather left the room. He waited until he heard his footsteps die away. Then he quickly pulled the papers out from under his pillow.

            It was, he saw instantly, a bundle of letters. Somehow that seemed disappointing. He’d been hoping for something juicier. Like government secrets, codes, military plans. He had no idea why Grandfather would have something like that, or why he’d been expect it, but he was still disappointed.

            But from there, he ran into trouble. When he tried to focus on the writing on the envelopes to see who they were addressed to, the writing blurred and stretched in front of his eyes. He couldn’t focus on the characters, he quickly realized. His damned head wound was messing things up for him again.

            “Dammit,” he muttered, as the pain increased. It seemed that just trying to read had suddenly made everything worse. Which made no sense, because hadn’t he read that folder in his dream/memory without increasing his migraine?

            No time to dwell on that now. He didn’t have much time. He needed to stow these letter somewhere before Grandfather came back. But where?

            Under the mattress, he decided. Yes, it was the obvious hiding place, but Grandfather would have to tip him out of bed in order to search there. And Hatano didn’t think he would do that.

            So he rolled off the side of the bed, stumbled to his feet, and shoved hard with his shoulder, lifting up the mattress. It seemed like the kind of thing that would have normally been so easy. But was now just barely possible in his condition. But it was possible and he got it done.

            He scrambled back into bed and rearranged the covers so they were in place like they’d been before he got out of bed. And none too soon. Moments later, he heard footsteps outside the cabin door. Then the door opened and Grandfather reentered. He had another tray of food, this time for himself.

            “Sho? Are you alright?” Worry knitted across Grandfather’s face. And Hatano realized just how tired he suddenly was. Who knew just getting out of bed could take so much energy?

            “Yes. I’m fine,” said Hatano. “Just tired. I think . . .”

            “Rest,” Grandfather said. “Sleep is the best thing for you right now.”

            “I’ve done nothing but sleep since I woke up,” Hatano grumbled.

            A soft smile turned the corner of Grandfather’s mouth. “Do you really think that makes sense, grandson?”

            “Yes,” said Hatano petulantly.

            “Of course.” Grandfather’s smile was indulgent. “Well, if you don’t want to sleep, just humor an old man and lay down for a little while. Alright?”

            Hatano knew what he was doing. But he was too tired to care. Sleep would give him a respite from this incessant headache. It occurred to him then that he literally could not remember what it felt like to not have a headache.

            “Alright,” he muttered, and laid back down, flat on his back, even though even the pressure from the soft pillow against his sore head hurt a little bit. He didn’t want to accidentally smother himself with the pillow in his sleep. Grandfather pulled the covers back up over him again, tucking him in. That felt familiar somehow. But at the same time, a little surprising.

            “Hey,” he said, sleepily, looking up at the old man.

            “Yes?”

            “Are you really my grandfather?”

            He realized as soon as the words left his mouth how horrible they were, and was instantly ashamed of himself. Grandfather’s expression turned stony.

            Hatano closed his eyes. He felt tears burning out the corners of them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

            “Shhh. It’s alright,” Grandfather said.

            “That was horrible of me.”

            “It’s alright,” repeated Grandfather.

            “No it’s not.”

            “But it will be,” said Grandfather. His voice carried the ring of a promise. “In time, you’ll remember on your own.”

            And that scared Hatano almost as much as not ever being able to remember. Because what if he didn’t like what he learned about who he really was, and who Grandfather really was?

* * *

            Notes: Did anyone else notice that when Hatano was undercover as Shimano his eyes were wider than they were in the first episode? And he didn’t strike his signature pose of putting his hands behind his head even once? It’s not likely that he would have remembered to keep his eyes wide, or not to put both hands behind his head like that, when he couldn’t even remember his own name. That kind of suggests that the half-lidded eyes and that pose might just be things he’s adopted for his role as Hatano, D-Agency spy, and not normal traits for him.

 

            Of course that’s just conjecture, but isn’t that half the fun of Joker Game? Trying to read deeper into the minute actions of our ~~tall,~~ dark, and mysterious spies and get a better understanding of who they really are? :P

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

            If Yuuki’s hair wasn’t already completely grey, this situation would have been the deciding factor.            

            This shouldn’t be so hard, he thought, frowning down at the boy who wasn’t his grandson. His role as Namika Sho’s grandfather was just that. A role. It was a character he was playing, like a hundred he’d played before. And never before had he started to lose himself in his role, mixing his role’s emotions with his own.

            Then again, never before had he really given a damn about the people around him in those roles.

            Espionage had been different for Japan, back when Yuuki was in his prime. He was the only one of his kind. Until he’d gone and molded eight young men into his image.

            And that, he realized now, was the root of his problem. If anyone else in the world, other than one of his eight protégés, was lying unconscious in front of him, in pain and without his memories, Yuuki knew that he would have been able to stay perfectly objective. But because it was one of the eight. One of his eight. That changed things.

            When the hell did I get so attached? he wondered. When had he started to see his spies as more than his subordinates?

            It couldn’t have happened all at once, he realized, upon reflection. It had been a gradual thing. A thousand little warning signs had lined the way. Like when they used their ingenuity to come up with something that won his approval. Like the games they all liked to play.

            He remembered vividly the first time he saw them playing their Joker Game. Sitting in their cafeteria, well after midnight, subtly giving each other signs. At first he’d thought that only one of the players was cheating, with the help of one of his friends. But then he’d seen that player lose. And realized that it wasn’t just the one. They were all in on it, all of them making alliances and being sneaky, and trying to outplay the others with cunning. And he had felt a distinct surge of pride.

            And he remembered when he first started turning a blind eye to the other games they played. Like the time Miyoshi nearly set Sakuma up to kill himself, and all the others went along with it. Or the time Jitsui and Hatano had snuck into a military academy, forged themselves new identities and enrollment papers, and attended classes for an entire week, before he realized they were even gone. He never had figured out what the purpose of that had been. Practically, he supposed they could have been trying to use the experience to pass as military personel better. Personally, Yuuki thought that they’d just done it on a lark.

            Somewhere along the way, tolerance and amusement had turned into genuine affection. Yuuki had never had people in his life like this before. People who were like him. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew. These boys were the closest thing to family he was ever going to find. And that terrified him. Because the more he cared, the harder it would be to ask them to be what he knew they could be. It was contradictory, and he knew it. He’d made them into his own image. But now that he had, he didn’t want them to be like him.

            But of course, in a lot of ways, it was already too late.

            He watched Hatano dissolve back into sleep, and wondered how much lasting emotional damage he was doing to his youngest spy. Right now Hatano didn’t know whether Yuuki was his grandfather or not. It was clear he wanted to believe it was true. But something kept him from really believing it. But since he wasn’t sure whether he was right or not, he was struggling with guilt, thinking that he was hurting his grandfather with his doubt and inability to remember.

            He was going to be embarrassed when his memories finally came back. And Yuuki was nearly certain that they were going to come back now, based on one simple fact alone.

            Hatano had fleeced him.

            He didn’t know how. He suspected it must have been when he’d been helping Hatano eat. But somehow, Hatano had stolen back the letters that helped define his cover story.

           Yuuki noticed they were gone on his trip back to the dining hall to get himself some food. When he remembered that he needed to dispose of them and found them gone. There was no one else but Hatano who could have taken them. No one else had gotten close enough to Yuuki to pick the pocket that was hidden inside his suit. And that bundle of letters certainly hadn’t just fallen out on their own.

            Yuuki had to admit, he was as annoyed as he was impressed. Very few people could use misdirection well enough, or put him off his guard enough to pickpocket even him. And Hatano had managed to, by preying on his emotions, the little rat. It made him want to both smack the smugness out of him, and take him out for ice cream.

            Obviously, he could do neither. He’d never raised a hand against one of his spies before. And if he ever did, it would be for training purposes. Not in anger. Certainly never to one of them who was currently injured, let alone with something as serious as brain damage. And certainly never Hatano. The last thing that boy needed was the man who he had unconsciously started seeing as a replacement father, or grandfather figure, shattering whatever trust he’d managed to build up.

            And there was nowhere on the ship that ice cream could be acquired, even if Hatano was in any shape to be up and about to procure it. Added to the fact that he now had to worry what Hatano had learned from those letters, led to a stressful situation.

            Those letters blew a hole into the cover story based on the truth that Yuuki had given Hatano. They were very clearly addressed to Namika Sho by his father and mother. And they were written with a friendly, caring tone, courtesy of Amari and Miyoshi. But Yuuki had already told Hatano the truth about his parents. That his mother was dead, and that he was estranged from his father.

            Yuuki didn’t know what the boy had made of finding letters that seemed to provide evidence to the contrary. Either Hatano hadn’t read them yet, or he had, and had decided to bide his time.

            If he had read them, then Yuuki should have lost whatever trust the boy had in him. Though there was a small chance, that those letters might actually help him jog his memories. Something of the spy Hatano had trained to be was clearly still there, and still strong. He never would have been able to steal those letters otherwise. Perhaps he was reserving judgment. Or maybe he simply hadn’t read them yet.

            Yuuki did do a cursory search of the room for them, but came up empty. He took that to mean that Hatano either had the papers on his person, or in or under the mattress. If that was the case, Yuuki couldn’t retrieve them without Hatano knowing. And he didn’t want to take them with Hatano knowing. He didn’t want to risk that confrontation yet.

            He took comfort from the fact that the Hatano he knew, the spy he’d trained, was definitely in there. The brain damage hadn’t erased him. And if Yuuki knew Hatano, he’d pull through before too long.

            Then, hopefully, they could get the mission back on track, and Yuuki would stop feeling so damned compromised about the whole damned situation. It would be easier to pack his emotions back up when Hatano wasn’t mistaking him as his grandfather, and believing that he loved him like they were family.

 

* * *

 

 

            There was only one other man in the whole of the spy training facility that looked like he was Hatano’s age. More boy than man, he might have been a year, maybe two years older than Hatano. Or maybe a little older than that. His age was hard to pin down, and he looked like the kind of person who would always look younger than he was, because his face looked so angelic.

            “Jitsui,” he introduced himself to Hatano, when they broke for lunch and ended up drifting to the same table.

            “Hatano,” he replied, using his brand new name.

            They ended up sitting together when they got back from lunch too. Even though they hadn’t talked to each other very much. No one had actually talked much that first lunch. Everyone seemed to be very wary of each other. And with good reason. The competition was fierce. There were over fifty men there. Only five were expected to make it through to the end. They were all vying for the same, very limited spaces.

            But Hatano noticed some people seeming to team up by the end of that first day. A couple morons were putting together full teams of five. Like they thought they could carry each other through the physical and mental tests that lay before them. Like those were a team effort. Hatano wanted to laugh in their faces for their stupid notions.

            Just a glance amongst the crowd showed him at least a dozen people who physically weren’t cut out for this. An old knee injury here, a lack of proper musculature there, and just like that, he could see the competition narrowing down.

            There were a few people, however, who stood out to Hatano as being potentially very dangerous. A taller man named Odagiri had clearly been trained by military combat specialists. Miyoshi may have had a smile like a fox, but he moved like a snake, lithe, graceful, and deadly. And Jitsui . . . unassuming, skinny Jitsui carried himself with the sort of grace that only top tier jujitsu and aikido practitioners possessed.

            Hatano was 98 percent certain he could take down any one of them in single combat. He didn’t foresee anyone else there being a challenge in a fight, for him.

            Hatano hadn’t intended to form any alliances. That sort of thing was nonsense in his opinion. This wasn’t the sort of competition that having a team could keep you afloat in, and pretending otherwise was a waste of effort. But entering into kind of a partnership with Jitsui just kind of happened. It was convenient, having someone to pair up with who was close to his size. It meant that in partner drills, where they had to carry the other on their back, he wasn’t stuck with some hulking ogre. And Jitsui was nice enough, even if he was on the quiet side, and his personality wasn’t much like Hatano’s. So somehow, somewhere along the course of training, they went from being partners to being friends.

            When a bigger, older student name Zakurai teamed up with another older student, Narimo, and they got the drop on Hatano, Hatano got a few surprises. While he was certain he could have won a fight against both upperclassmen (it might have been painful, but he still would have won, dammit), it turned out that he didn’t have to. Sly smiling Miyoshi stepped in and stalled them with insults they were mostly too stupid to understand, while Fukumoto (a friend of Odagiri’s, quiet, very good in a fight, but not a top tier fighter by any means) went out and found Jitsui. Then Jitsui broke Zakurai’s leg.

            Narimo took the fall for that. There had been a reason Miyoshi encouraged Hatano and Jitsui to let him off without a beating, after all. He made a very nice fall guy for the incident, and he was so scared of Jitsui’s angel smile, that he actually confessed to breaking Zakurai’s leg, because he wanted to get away from them.

            Then the next day, as Hatano and Jitsui were getting their lunch trays, Miyoshi called them over to his table.

            “Sit with us,” the sly smiling trainee said, both an invitation and an order, but one that Hatano strangely found he didn’t mind following. Miyoshi then proceeded to make introductions amongst the small group already assembled there. A group that included Odagiri and Fukumoto, as well as a few others who’d been on Hatano’s radar as people who it wouldn’t be prudent to mess with. People like Kaminaga and Amari, and one who hadn’t really been on Hatano’s radar, but who he changed his mind about shortly after meeting him, named Tazaki.

            There were also a couple people who Hatano didn’t expect to make it much further in their training. Like that glasses wearing guy, appropriately named Megami, who was clearly too biased to be intelligently objective, and a man whose respiratory muscles clearly weren’t cut out for long distance anything, called Hourai. A week and a half proved Hatano right about them both.

            And that was when things changed. As their classmates continued to be whittled down, their group of eight remained. And somehow Hatano found himself actually caring and worrying that one of their group would be the next to go. He did what he could to try and prevent that. When Tazaki started lagging behind in hand to hand combat (the man had raw, natural talent, but not the experience to fully utilize it. Yet.) Hatano volunteered to tutor him, and worked with him for countless hours, until no one could tell Tazaki had only just taken up martial arts. And Tazaki returned the favor when Hatano initially struggled with sleight of hand, showing Hatano how to use misdirection to achieve his ends.

            It wasn’t long before Hatano found himself thinking of them as his friends. But throughout it all, Jitsui maintained a special place, right by Hatano’s side. Hatano wasn’t even sure why. They didn’t have that many common interests, and their personalities were quite different. But somehow just being with Jitsui seemed to put Hatano at peace. They would hang out together whenever there was down time, sometimes doing things that Hatano liked, like sparring, other times doing more quiet things, like the ones Jitsui preferred, like board games, or reading (or in Hatano’s case, napping while Jitsui was reading). When the weather grew cold, they started sharing sleeping space, because Jitsui shivered horribly at night, and their dormitories were cold. It wasn’t as awkward as Hatano had expected, and they didn’t even have to take any ridicule about it from their group of friends, who mainly seemed relieved that they’d found a cure for Jitsui’s chattering teeth.

            There were times when Hatano would take a step or two back from the group, and just watch them all, wondering if this was what it was like to have brothers. But his contemplative moments never lasted long. Someone was always quick to drag him back into the group of prospective spies.

 

* * *

 

 

            Spy training facility. He’d attended and graduated from a spy training facility! That was Hatano’s first thought upon waking again.

            I’m a spy!

            Suddenly, some things were making sense. Like how he’d known Grandfather was hiding documents inside his suit. And how he’d been able to pick pocket him.

            Though Hatano now had a sinking feeling that Grandfather really wasn’t his real grandfather. And that was extremely disappointing. He’d really thought the older man cared for him. Realizing that he might not, that this could all be an act, made Hatano feel desperately alone.

            Doubly so because now he wasn’t sure if Grandfather was an enemy or an ally.

            If he was an ally, then he was playing a role. Actually, if he was an enemy, he was also playing a role. So either he was an ally, and Hatano’s role was supposed to be as his grandson, and he was making the best of this amnesia situation he could, and trying to keep Hatano from blowing their cover. Or else he was an enemy, trying to gain Hatano’s trust while he was vulnerable and couldn’t remember anything. If the latter was the case, what he’d been doing had been working. Even right now, Hatano really, really didn’t want to think that Grandfather was an enemy, leading him on, and trying to set him up to betray . . . whoever Hatano was spying for.

            I need more information, Hatano thought, staring down at his hands. I need to see what’s in those letters.

            Unfortunately that wouldn’t be an option at the moment. His vision wasn’t clear enough to make out the individual lines on the palms of his hands. If he couldn’t see those, then he couldn’t read either, yet.

            Dammit.

            Grandfather currently was not in the cabin. Hatano didn’t know what that meant. He felt strangely disappointed to have woken up alone. But he knew now, or at least strongly suspected, that Grandfather had been playing a role all along. At best he cared about Hatano as much as someone could care about a coworker. If he was playing a role. Hatano really hoped he wasn’t.

            He wanted to believe that he had a family.

            Make use of this time to yourself, the voice inside Hatano was telling him. Gather information. Get out of this cabin and confirm that the situation out there is what you were told it was.

            Steeling his resolve, Hatano struggled out of bed. He held onto the mattress for several seconds to regain his balance. His muscles were weak from doing almost nothing for the past three days. But they were also strong from a lifetime of physical training and martial arts.

            Yes. He remembered that now. It was hazy in his mind, but Hatano was sure that was right. He’d been practicing martial arts all his life, and that sort of physical conditioning didn’t deteriorate in just a week.

            He was dressed in a sleeping shirt and soft trousers that were comfortable enough to sleep in. Not exactly formal attire, but not indecent either, and Hatano didn’t know how much time he was going to have. He didn’t want to waste time changing.

            He found his shoes at the foot of the bed. At least he was pretty sure they were his shoes. Tying them up was a pain. He was still a little clumsy and small things were a little blurry. But he managed. Then he was easing open the door and glancing out cautiously into the corridor.

            No one seemed to be in the hall, so Hatano carefully stepped out, took note of the cabin number, the numbers on the cabins around his, and then started walking so that he was passing cabins with lower numbers. That would most likely get him out of the hall fastest.

            He did encounter several people in the hallway. An older woman, and then a young couple who were clinging to each other like newly weds, and quite possibly were. The older woman gave his clothes a critical glance and frowned her disapproval at his overly casual attire. The couple paid him no mind at all.

            Hatano reached the deck without incident. He knew he was going the right way pretty quickly, because the smell of sea air grew stronger as he went. And soon he saw natural light instead of the dim electric light. From there it did not take him long to confirm that yes, he was on a ship, on the ocean, heading for Japan. He overheard several other passengers talking about what they planned to do when they got home, and the souvenirs they’d gotten in France.

            “Oh! Namika-san!”

            Hatano recognized the alias and tensed. Then turned and found himself looking into an unfamiliar face. But the man wore a uniform like waiting staff on ships often did. Perhaps Hatano wasn’t expected to know him?

            “Hello,” Hatano said, opening with a nice, neutral greeting.

            “Are you feeling better, Namika-san? I heard about what those Germans did to you.”

            “I’m feeling better,” said Hatano. “I just needed some air.”

            “Can I get anything else for you? A drink perhaps? Or I could go to your cabin and fetch your jacket.”

            It was chilly on the deck. The ocean breeze was strong that evening.

            “No,” said Hatano. “It’s alright.”

            “Nothing at all?” the man asked. “I could –”

            “No,” Hatano repeated. The man was starting to pass the acceptable limits of politeness and venture into suspicious.

            “Oh. I see. Alright. But do let me know if you need anything, Namika-san. Anything at all,” the man said, bowing low, and stepping back a bit. “We feel terrible about the treatment you received on our ship.”

            Hatano read guilt in his expression. He took it to mean this porter had somehow had a hand in the situation turning out as it had. Maybe just by something innocuous, such as letting a German soldier know how many teenage boys were on the ship. Or maybe something worse, like telling the Germans he suspected Hatano of being the fugitive Shimano Ryousuke.

            He gave the man a sweet smile, trying to imitate Jitsui’s. (Jitsui. His best friend. He knew how to turn the innocent charm on like no one else, and was not afraid to do so.) “It’s alright. Please don’t trouble yourself over what happened. The Germans are at fault, not you.”

            That mollified the porter enough for Hatano to get away from him with only a few more niceties exchanged. Finally freed, he proceeded to the rail of the ship and stared out at the ocean. They were nowhere near land. So essentially, if he was in enemy hands, he had no escape route. But it was a big ship. Chances were decent that he could manage to stay hidden for the duration of the voyage, or at least stay out of the sight of one specific person until they docked. Then he could disappear.

            He had no idea what he would do after he disappeared into some port. He still didn’t completely know who he was. Maybe if he made it back to Japan he’d be able to find some familiar landmarks that would help get him to where some friendlies would recognize him. But chances were just as good that if friendlies could identify him, enemies would too.

            No. What it all came back to was that he needed his memories as much as he needed his wits. Thankfully, his brain seemed to be on the mend. Hopefully he would remember more than just bits and pieces of spy training camp. Like what had happened to his friends. If he could just remember that much, he was sure he could get safely to one of them. He would have to be careful to make sure he wasn’t tailed and didn’t lead any trouble to his friend, but he was certain he could do that. If he could even just remember how to get a message to one of them, Hatano knew he would be alright.

            Strange. He was doubting almost everything he knew. Not that he knew very much right now. But he didn’t doubt at all, that any one of his friends would answer his call for help, if they were at all able to.

            Maybe I do have a family after all, he thought. Not the kind I thought I did. But still, a family. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be sure what had happened to the other spies he trained with. For all he knew, they could have had a falling out, and no longer want anything to do with each other. Or something worse could have happened. They could be . . . No. He wasn’t going to think about that.

            He was getting tired. Exhaustion from his brief excursion was setting in, and he started to feel like he could go back to sleep for another three days. There were some chairs set up on the deck, nearby. Hatano made his way to them and collapsed into one. If he could just rest a little while and regain his strength . . .

            Unfortunately, sitting down seemed to have the opposite effect. Before long, his eyes were drooping and his head was nodding.

            I should try to get back to the cabin, Hatano thought listlessly. Grandfather will be worried. Of course, he’s probably not really my grandfather, but –

            “Sho?”

            Speak of the devil.

            “Grandfather,” Hatano greeted him sleepily. He watched the older man’s reaction through half-lidded eyes.

            Worry and annoyance were clear on his face. But the annoyance was quickly disappearing, replaced by only worry. Grandfather’s cool hand came to rest on Hatano’s forehead, making him shiver.

            “Are you alright?”

            Tears sprang to Hatano’s eyes. This was an act. Just an act. This man didn’t really care about him.

            “Hata –” Grandfather coughed. “Sho? What’s wrong? Do you feel ill?”

            Yes. I feel sick, and alone, and it makes me feel like there’s a pit inside me, swallowing up all that I have left.

            “No. I’m fine,” said Hatano. “Just . . . tired.”

            Grandfather did not look convinced. “You’re crying. Are you in pain?”

            “My head hasn’t stopped hurting. But it’s no worse now than before. I’m fine, Grandfather. I’m just really tired.”

            He closed his eyes then, just for a second. And he thought Grandfather said something else, but it was fuzzy, and Hatano’s exhausted mind couldn’t make out the words. Then the next thing he knew, he felt Grandfather scooping him up, into his arms.

            “What are you doing?” he muttered, forcing his eyes open again. His words were slightly muffled, because his face was pressed against Grandfather’s shoulder, as the taller man carried him bridal style back across the deck.

            “It’s time to get you back to our cabin,” Grandfather said. “It wouldn’t do for you to catch a cold. Especially not in your condition.”

            “I can walk,” Hatano muttered. But trying to fight Grandfather’s hold was too much effort at the moment. If the man put him down on his own, Hatano would walk. But if not . . .

            “And I can carry you. It’s no trouble.”

            “It is trouble. I’m a lot of trouble,” Hatano mumbled.

            “Yes,” Grandfather didn’t even try to deny it. “But you’re worth it.”

            Hatano squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that no more tears would escape. He didn’t know why kindness from Grandfather was affecting him like this now, especially now that he knew this was probably all an act.

            But, he thought, as he buried his face against Grandfather’s chest, maybe it was alright to lose himself in the act. Just for a little while. When this act was over, who knew when the next time he felt like he had a family might be?

* * *

            Notes:  Hatano is experiencing some brain damage. It’s why he’s so prone to crying. And why he can’t stay awake very long. I know these aren’t normal traits for him, so I swear I’m not indeliberately butchering his character. Depression and spontaneous crying can both be after effects of a concussion. So can extreme lethargy.

 

            So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m trying to balance his actual characterization (or at least his characterization the way I interpret it) with real post concussive symptoms. If you think I’m taking it too far please let me know. I’m trying to work out a balance but I’m not sure how I’m doing, so any input on this point would be most welcome. Thanks. :)  


 


	7. Chapter 7

            Yuuki had only stepped out for five minutes. Five minutes to grab some dinner for himself and his charge. Then he returned to their cabin only to find a nasty shock.

            Hatano was not there.

            But someone else was.

            A porter was in their room, going through one of the suitcases. Hatano’s suitcase, Yuuki saw immediately.

            “What are you doing?” he demanded. He didn’t have to feign anger. His role’s feelings were perfectly in line with his real feelings now. “Where is my grandson?”

            The porter jumped. Guilt was written all across his face. “Namika-san!”

            “Where is my grandson?” Yuuki shouted. “Why are you going through his belongings? Where is Sho?”

            “A thousand apologies, Namika-san,” said the porter quickly, cowering from him. “Your grandson is on the deck without his coat. When I saw him looking so cold, I offered to retrieve it for him, and he agreed.”

            Liar.

            Yuuki had no doubts in his mind at all that this man was lying to him. Hatano may very well be on the deck. Actually, Hatano probably was on deck. That much of his statement had come across as being truthful. But Hatano had definitely not sent this man to retrieve his coat.

            For one, his coat was hung on the bedpost, in plain sight. For another, Yuuki couldn’t see Hatano trusting this man any further than he could kick him. No, not even that far, actually. Hatano could kick people pretty far when he felt like it, especially if he got a running start. He vividly remembered an incident where his boys tested that skill, involving a mud puddle and several money wagers . . . but that was not relevant now.

            “Your services are no longer required,” said Yuuki flatly, and he glared at the porter until the man scurried for the door. “You’ll find that despite my age, I still have a long memory. You are not forgiven for telling those soldiers about my boy. I don’t want to see you near him or any of his belongings again. If I do, I swear it will mean your job.”

            That was plausible reasoning, completely in line with his cover. And for now it did the trick. The porter fled. And Yuuki, after setting down the food he’d procured, turned to go back to the deck and find his wayward grandson. Subordinate. His wayward subordinate. Who was not actually his grandson.

            It bothered Yuuki that in his mind he was beginning to blur the lines. It was one thing to be very into his role, but another to be confusing his role for reality.

            It’s because it’s one of your eight, that nasty little voice inside him informed him. That boy may not be your blood, but he’s still your legacy.

            The situation did not grow any easier when he found Hatano on a deck chair, barely conscious and fighting off sleep.

            “Sho?” he said, not nearly as sternly as he should have.

            Hatano’s head jerked up, like a poorly controlled puppet’s. His eyes took several seconds to zero in on Yuuki, and when they did, Yuuki could tell that this was going to be a short conversation. Hatano had exhausted himself making it this far. He would be asleep within the minute.

            “Grandfather,” said Hatano, his eyes drooping lower even as he spoke.

            His face, Yuuki noticed, was a little flushed. Had the boy worked himself into a fever?

            He reached forward and rested a hand on Hatano’s forehead to gage his temperature. Hatano shivered at his touch.

            “Are you alright?” asked Yuuki, choosing to forego being angry for now.

            He was not expecting Hatano to stare up at him with a stricken look on his face. Or for the boy’s eyes to fill with tears. Though he should have been prepared for it. Since spontaneous crying and depression were both possible post-concussive symptoms.

            But his role probably shouldn’t know that. Which meant he needed to act concerned. Not that acting was entirely necessary . . .

            “Hata – Sho? What’s wrong? Do you feel ill?” Yuuki wanted to slap himself for his lapse. Concentrate, he ordered himself. You’re better than this. And you can’t afford to lapse right now. Your mission has just grown more complicated.

            Hatano looked up at him with big watery eyes. When he blinked, tears spilled out.

            “No. I’m fine. Just tired,” he said.

            No one in the world would have believed him right then.

            “You’re crying. Are you in pain?”

            “My head hasn’t stopped hurting. But it’s no worse now than before. I’m fine, Grandfather. I’m just really tired.”

            Then Hatano closed his eyes and his head dipped. He wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer.

            “It’s cold up here, grandson,” said Yuuki. “We should get you back to our cabin.”

            Hatano didn’t respond. He seemed to be in that in between state, where he was neither asleep nor awake.

            With a sigh, and a half-hearted hope that Hatano would not remember this once he was himself again, Yuuki knelt and scooped the boy up, into his arms. Hatano’s head lulled a bit then came to rest so that it was nestled against Yuuki’s shoulder, as he carried the boy back across the deck.

            “What are you doing?” muttered Hatano.     

            “It’s time to get you back to our cabin,” Yuuki said. “It wouldn’t do for you to catch a cold. Especially not in your condition.”

            “I can walk,” Hatano mumbled.

            “And I can carry you. It’s no trouble.” It really wasn’t. Hatano had lost far too much weight over the past week. Yuuki intended to put him on a diet that would help him gain it back, as soon as he was able to. And when they were back at D-Agency, after Hatano was cleared by a doctor for physical training, he would be back at that again too.

            “It is trouble. I’m a lot of trouble,” Hatano mumbled. Even in this state, amnesiac and barely conscious, Hatano still wanted to banter with him. Yuuki did not like the surge of affection that swept through him with that thought.

            But his role would have said something . . . encouraging. So Yuuki had to as well.

            “Yes,” he said indulgently. “But you’re worth it.”

            Then Hatano gave a soft little sob and buried his face against Yuuki’s chest. And Yuuki felt certain that wasn’t part of his act.

            This boy is going to be the death of me . . .

            Yuuki steeled himself. It helped that Hatano seemed to have genuinely lost consciousness now. Though he had fisted one hand into the fabric of Yuuki’s coat unconsciously, and the way he was clinging to him sent another pang through Yuuki.

            Back in their room, he put Hatano down on his own bed, and carefully pried the boy’s fingers off from his coat. Then he locked the cabin’s door and began inspecting everything. Hatano had done a thorough job of sweeping the cabin for bugs when they first arrived. Now Yuuki had to do it himself. Because that porter was almost certainly an enemy agent. But what caliber he was, and what his objectives were was a mystery. If he’d left listening devices in their cabin, they needed to be dealt with immediately. Yuuki didn’t want to risk his amnesiac subordinate remembering something and blurting it out because he couldn’t remember everything, or namely his training about not blurting things out.

            He checked everywhere for bugs and was as thorough as he could be in his search. During the course of it, he even found Hatano’s letters under the boy’s mattress. This time he put them into his own suitcase, to decide what to do with them later. He also went through Hatano’s suitcase, which the porter had been going through, to see if anything had been taken. Or anything had been added.

            It was negative on both accounts. He’d been the one to put together that suitcase for Hatano. He knew the items in it better than Hatano himself did. Everything that was supposed to be there was, which wasn’t really unexpected. There had been nothing incriminating or of real value in the case.

            After his search was complete and Hatano had been moved back to his own bed, Yuuki sat down to think.

            The porter being an enemy agent could be a problem. It was almost certain that he was one. What was uncertain was the extent of the threat he posed. If the man had access to the ship’s communications systems he could be extremely dangerous. Because the ones he was most likely working for were the Germans. And for most of their trip they would be in or too close to German controlled waters. If he made contact with any German ship or U-boat and let them know that the Japanese fugitive Shimano Ryousuke was aboard, there would be problems.

            How suspicious was he of Hatano? Yuuki couldn’t even hazard a guess. Hatano hadn’t done anything suspicious onboard that Yuuki knew of. The porter had only seen Hatano twice that Yuuki knew of. When they first boarded the ship and again, just now, when Hatano stumbled up on deck.

            There was a chance that Hatano had let something slip while he was in a state of semi-consciousness. Yuuki couldn’t forget how he’d slipped up in France, mumbling the ratio of bystanders to collaborators to resistance members after taking that first hit to his head, in addition to mumbling in Russian, and waking up and reading a poem backwards in Latin out loud. If he’d messed up again, here on the ship, Yuuki would have to use chemical reconditioning on him again before he allowed Hatano back out on any mission, however easy the mission should be. Which meant that he would have to keep Hatano out of the field for quite awhile. He still refused to flush his brain full of chemicals when it was healing from a traumatic injury.

            There was no immediate action Yuuki could take now, to try to thwart the porter. He didn’t have enough information and he couldn’t go out and gather it right now. Leaving the cabin meant leaving his spy unconscious and helpless, which he would not do now that he knew of this new player. Not to mention he’d have to sweep the room for listening devices all over again when he returned.

            Suddenly, Hatano whimpered in his sleep.

            Yuuki looked to him, frowning.

            Hatano whimpered again, his face unconsciously grimacing in fear.

            “Please. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. Please . . . don’t . . .”

            Something dark and cold twisted in Yuuki’s gut.

            “No. I’m sorry . . . please . . .” And Hatano whimpered again, but the whimper trilled up into a dry sob.

            “Shh.” Yuuki put his hand on Hatano’s brow before he was consciously aware of even moving toward the boy. “Easy, son. You’re safe now.”

            Hatano whimpered again.

            Yuuki stroked the boy’s hair back, keeping his touch gentle. And to his surprise, Hatano tilted his head into Yuuki’s hand, leaning into his touch.

            “Easy. You’re alright . . .”

            Hatano’s eyes opened partway. His pupils were still heavily dilated, so Yuuki knew he wasn’t fully aware. But his gaze zeroed in on Yuuki and Yuuki swore the look that crossed Hatano’s face was recognition.

            “Yuu – no.” Hatano stopped himself from talking and broke off into a small coughing fit.

            The coughing fit wasn’t extremely believable. But even though he knew it was fake, Yuuki responded to it as his role as Namika Sho’s grandfather would have, and reached for a cup of water for the boy.

            His hand was seized by Hatano’s smaller one, almost as soon as he removed it from Hatano’s forehead. Yuuki looked at him in surprise, and shock crossed Hatano’s face as he realized what he was doing. He immediately let go of Yuuki’s hand, his own hand dropping back to the bead, exhaustedly. Then his eyes slid shut again.

            Damn it. If Yuuki had been a lesser man, he would have palmed his face into his hands. This shouldn’t be so hard. And this certainly shouldn’t be painful. But it was. He could barely even track all the emotions the past half minute had forced him to feel.

            There was anger. Rage, actually. Because he knew exactly what Hatano had been dreaming about. Or rather who. Then hopeful excitement. He was certain that Hatano had recognized him. Recognized him for who he really was. Not just recognized him as the man who had been taking care of him since he woke up with no memories. And there was pride. Hatano had started to say his name, but then thought better of it, falling back to his training and conditioning. But through those other emotions, the rage remained.

            It was irrational. Hatano’s past didn’t have any bearing on their current mission. It wasn’t something Yuuki could affect or change. It was also something Yuuki had been well aware of since before he even met Hatano and invited him to D-Agency’s training. He’d always found it distasteful, but it had never infuriated him before now.

            Calm down, he told himself. You have problems at hand to deal with. And your boy’s safety depends on you dealing with them.

            He’d never failed a mission before. And he wasn’t going to start now.


	8. Chapter 8

            Hatano dreamed.

            He was a child again, and standing on an upside down bucket so that he could reach the sink and wash the dishes. The water was hot and soapy, and when he went to take a bowl out of the water, it slipped right through his fingers to shatter on the floor.

            Then he was there. The man with the eyes that were wide but empty, like a dead fish’s. His father. His belt was already off and raised, and this wasn’t the dojo, Hatano wasn’t allowed to fight back when they weren’t in the dojo or else he was in Big Trouble. The kind that meant he couldn’t lie on his back for a week, because his whole back was covered in stripes beaten into his skin.

            So instead he tried to appeal to his father. Once in awhile it worked. “Please,” he said. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good. Please . . . don’t . . .”

            The belt snapped forward to catch him in the mouth. Hatano whimpered.

            “No. I’m sorry . . . please . . .”

            But suddenly his father was gone. And everything was dark. Hatano wondered briefly if he was dead. If his father had finally gone too far and finished him off. He’d wondered it a few times. But somehow he didn’t think that’s what had happened now. Because there was a cool hand on his brow, and the familiar scent of tobacco in the air, and his father didn’t smoke. And there was a soft voice speaking to him.

            “Shh. Easy, son. You’re safe now.”

            Son?

            Hatano whimpered again. But the voice wasn’t his father’s. He’d know his father’s voice anywhere. It never failed to make his blood run cold. This voice was gentle. And familiar.

            The hand on his brow was stroking his hair. It felt . . . nice. Hatano felt safe now.

            “Easy. You’re alright . . .”

            The voice was familiar. Hatano knew that he knew who it belonged to. But he couldn’t remember. So he cheated and opened his eyes.

            The face of an old man swam into vision. Stern features. Grey hair. Cool, almost cold eyes. But they were soft now, as they gazed down at Hatano.

            And suddenly memories crashed over Hatano like a wave.

            “Yuu – no.”

            Where was he? Were they somewhere safe? If not then he shouldn’t be blurting out Lt. Colonel Yuuki’s name. Oh no, what had he done? Yuuki-san was going to be furious if he’d just blew his cover.

            He tried to cover his mistake with a fake coughing fit. And Yuuki – Grandfather – no, Yuuki, removed his hand from Hatano’s head and went to reach for something.

            Hatano panicked and moved without thinking. He seized Yuuki’s hand, because he didn’t want him to go.

            Yuuki froze.

            Oh no. I just made things worse, didn’t I? Hatano realized, immediately releasing Yuuki’s hand when he realized what he was doing. His eyes were sliding closed of their own volition. He was suddenly so, so tired.

            I’ll apologize in a minute, he told himself. Half a minute. I just need to rest for a few seconds.

            Then Hatano slipped back into dreams, that weren’t just dreams. Dreams that were also memories.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            He was waiting in a café in Yokohama. Drinking coffee, rather than the tea he preferred, because tomorrow he was leaving for France. People there drank more coffee, as he understood it. Hatano needed to be able to blend in as well as possible.

            Jitsui entered the bustling little restaurant and scanned the place without seeming to. His eyes landed on Hatano, on a table in the back, away from the windows, and a smile crossed his face. He was wearing glasses. So was Hatano, come to think of it.

            Jitsui sat down at the table, beaming at him. “We match.”

            “Yes we do,” Hatano agreed readily.

            “Any particular reason why?” Jitsui wanted to know.

            “I’ve got a mission coming up,” said Hatano. “It’s my turn to go undercover.”

            “How deep?” Jitsui asked.

            “I’ll be gone a year,” said Hatano. “Maybe a little longer. This is the last time you’ll be checking in with me.”

            Jitsui’s smile crumpled.

            “Hey,” said Hatano, kicking him under the table, lightly. “Don’t be sad. I’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

            “You’re going someplace far away,” Jitsui said.

            Hatano’s smile was forced now. “Yeah.”

            Jitsui didn’t ask where. He knew that Hatano shouldn’t tell him. Because Jitsui was undercover now too. And his role was much more dangerous than the cream puff assignment Yuuki was sending Hatano on. Jitsui was acting as bait for enemy spies. If any came to call, then there was always the chance Jitsui could mess up or miscalculate, and end up tied up and doped up on truth serum. Jitsui wouldn’t want to know anything that might put Hatano in danger. That way he couldn’t give it up, even under torture or truth serums.

            Honestly, Hatano was a little jealous of Jitsui. Between the two of them, Jitsui definitely had the more dangerous role. And it had been between the two of them of who would get that role, since they were the only two of the eight who could pass as students. Yuuki-san had decided to go with Jitsui rather than Hatano, for reasons he didn’t disclose to them. Maybe he didn’t think Hatano would handle pretending to be a houseboy very well for the duration of a mission that could very well last four years. Or perhaps he wanted to keep Hatano in roles where he would have the means to keep up with his martial arts training. Whatever the reason, Hatano didn’t begrudge Jitsui his job. But he wished that his own upcoming mission was a little more demanding than “Go to France and report back every rumor you hear on the streets.”

            “I’ll miss you,” Jitsui said finally. “I always look forward to check ins because I always hope it’ll be you waiting for me.”

            “I’ll miss you too,” said Hatano. “Honestly, I’ve been missing you for awhile. The agency’s not the same without you. And more and more of us are going out on various missions. Gone for a week, a month, longer. Things are changing . . .”

            They met each other’s eyes and Jitsui smiled sadly while Hatano grimaced. They both knew they were thinking the same thing. It was sad, but they would probably never all be in the same room again.

            “Why coffee?” asked Jitsui, changing the subject. “You don’t like coffee.”

            “Yeah. But I need to learn to drink it. You never know when your choices are going to be black coffee and only black coffee.”

            Jitsui tilted his head slightly as if processing Hatano’s words and figuring out what they really meant. Then he signaled a waitress and placed an order for his own drink. Red tea. Specifically, Zhenghe Gongfu red tea. Hatano’s favorite.

            “Now you’re just being mean,” Hatano whined when the waitress had left.

            “Drinking your favorite in front of you, while you drink your least favorite. Yes,” agreed Jitsui. “I feel like being evil today.”

            “I thought we were friends. See if I bring you a souvenir after this.”

            Jitsui gave his angel smile.

            They made small talk while they waited for Jitsui’s tea. And they traded off the information that Jitsui was delivering, this time in the form of a matchbook. He gave Hatano the signal to need a light. So Hatano fished out a cigarette and pretended to be unable to find any matches. Jitsui emptied his pockets onto the table top. A few chicken scratch notes of no importance, crumpled up, a couple lemon drop candies, individually wrapped, and a folder of matches with just two sticks left.

            Hatano deliberately botched the first match. He got a light on the second one, then crumpled and pocketed the empty folder. Had anyone been watching, it wouldn’t have looked suspicious at all. But he was positive no one was watching. He’d been casing the place since he got there and the most suspicious person in sight was a little old lady he’d seen shoplifting in the drugstore across the street before he entered the café.

            The waitress came back with Jitsui’s tea. And a plate of biscuits that they hadn’t ordered, but were on the house for her favorites sweet faced student who worked so hard.

            “Waitress killer,” whispered Hatano after she was gone again, kicking at Jitsui’s ankle under the table.

            “Jealous?” asked Jitsui, offering him a biscuit.

            Hatano almost declined. He was going to be going to France tomorrow, and he’d heard about French food. Lots of butter and fats, and sugar. Heavy food. Not the kind of thing you ate if wanted to stay fighting fit. And he would be there a year. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t worried about keeping in shape.

            But then, this was the last time he was going to see his best friend for who knew how long. And he was already drinking sludge for the sake of adapting for the mission.

            Something could always go wrong. Either for him, or Jitsui. If it did, he wanted the last memory they made together to be a good one.

            “These are good,” he said, as the sweet little cookie melted in his mouth. Then he went to take a drink of his coffee, thinking that the sweetness already in his mouth would help temper the bitterness.

            He almost spit his drink out in surprise when scorching hot red tea touched his tongue.

            “Oh! Are you okay?” asked Jitsui, realizing that he might have made a mistake. “I didn’t think that through very well.”

            While Hatano had been distracted, Jitsui had subtly switched their cups, giving Hatano his favorite red tea, while taking Hatano’s black coffee for himself.

            “I’m fine,” said Hatano, waving away his concerns, but pressing a napkin to his lips to wipe away the droplets that had spluttered when he’d been surprised.

            Jitsui produced a napkin and helped him. He reached across the table to dab at Hatano’s mouth, the way one might a much smaller child who’d made a mess with his rice. “I’m sorry. I burned you. I didn’t think that through. Are you sure you’re alright?”

            “I’m fine,” said Hatano. “I promise. It’s my fault anyway. I should have paid better attention.”

            “No. It was my fault. I should have realized your drink had cooled off enough by now that you wouldn’t be cautious of it anymore. I’m sorry.”

            Hatano caught his hand to stop him from trying to wipe his mouth again. “I’m fine. Really.”

            Jitsui’s eyes locked onto Hatano’s own, staring through both their glasses lenses. And Hatano found himself caught in his friend’s gaze, unable to look away. Had Jitsui’s eyes always been so big? Or were their glasses magnifying them? They shouldn’t. Neither of their glasses had a real prescription. So why did Hatano suddenly feel like he was drowning in his best friend’s eyes?

            Hatano would have been happy to stay right there for quite awhile longer. But Jitsui ended the moment, blinking quickly, then coughing awkwardly, and finally trying to retrieve his hand. The hand that Hatano was still currently holding. Hatano blushed and released him. That had probably looked really weird, he realized. They were weren’t supposed to be drawing attention to themselves.

            To try to look casual again, he took another sip of his tea. Mmm, Zhenghe Gongfu. With just the right amount of honey.

            “I have one question that I would really like answered,” said Jitsui, and when Hatano looked up, Jitsui wasn’t looking at him. His cheeks were a little rosy too. It was a good look on him, but Hatano felt a little bad about embarrassing him the way he had. Or maybe he was embarrassed about the question he was going to ask? “If you’re not allowed to answer I understand. But if I don’t know this, it will keep me up at night.”

            “What’s the question?” asked Hatano. Right then, whatever it was, he was ready to answer, consequences and Yuuki-san’s wrath be damned.

            “How dangerous is your assignment?” asked Jitsui. “On a scale of one to ten. Please tell me.”

            Hatano laughed. He couldn’t help it. That was all this was about? “Not even a one,” he answered. “It’s a cream puff assignment. The most dangerous thing about it is I might have to cut back my workout regiment, which will make me get soft, and gain a few pounds and not be able to jump kick as high. Honest. That’s my biggest worry right now.”

            Jitsui was studying him carefully, judging for himself whether or not Hatano was telling him white lies. But Hatano was completely sincere, and Jitsui picked up on it. He flashed his angel smile again.

            The rest of the check in went smoothly, filled with cheerful chatter about nothing of importance. Their roles were easy. Just two friends meeting up for an afternoon in a café, to catch up, and talk. They barely had to act at all. Hatano always enjoyed spending time with Jitsui and knew the feeling was mutual. Their allotted time passed too quickly, just like it always did. Then it was time to say goodbye.

            They walked out of the café together, and walked partway up the street, to the juncture where they’d turn their separate ways.

            Jitsui’s hug came out of nowhere. But where once Hatano’s reaction would have been to freeze up, expecting to be hit or throttled, now he found himself relaxing into the embrace, and returning it.

            “Stay warm,” Hatano told Jitsui, squeezing tight. “And safe. Don’t slack off on paying attention, just because you’ve got a nice comfy job as a houseboy.”

            “I won’t,” said Jitsui. “But you come home safe, alright?”

            “Alright.”

            “Promise,” insisted Jitsui.

            “I promise,” said Hatano. Even though they both knew that there were never any guarantees. “I’ll come home safe.”

            “I’ll be waiting,” said Jitsui, bowing his head a bit over Hatano’s shoulder. His lips brushed against the spot where Hatano’s shoulder met his neck as he spoke, and was enough to make Hatano shiver.

            And then he was gone, several steps away and heading down the street. Hatano watched him go, until he disappeared around the corner. Then he made a vow to himself that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw his friend.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

            When Hatano opened his eyes again, it was dark. He sat up slowly, wincing against his headache, wondering where he was.

            The springs of his mattress creaked beneath him as he moved. Then Hatano heard a noise from elsewhere in the room. He was not alone.

            Heedless of his headache, he leapt off the bed, putting distance between himself and the unknown.

            Then a light turned on. Hatano stared at the older man who was occupying the room’s other bed, and watching him with a wary expression.

            He knew this man. But his mind felt like a puzzle that had been taken apart. The pieces were slow to come together, but come together they did. Somewhat. Yuuki. Lt. Colonel Yuuki, to be precise. His teacher. And future boss, if he completed his spy training. No, wait. He had completed his spy training. Which made Yuuki his . . . grandfather? No. That had to be a cover story. There was a gaping hole in Hatano’s memories. He remembered . . . saying goodbye to Jitsui in Yokohama. That was the day before he was to leave on his own mission to France. And now Grandfather, no Yuuki, had said they were on a ship returning home from France . . . and how did German soldiers figure in again?

            “What’s going on?” he asked slowly, hoping that more memories would come back to him and clear things up on their own before Yuuki had to answer him. But no luck.

            “Sit down,” ordered Yuuki. “You’re not strong enough to be on your feet for long.”

            Hatano obeyed, mostly on instinct. He crawled back on top of the bed he’d been sleeping on, and perched on top of the covers. Then he scratched his earlobe, casually and glanced at Yuuki, who smiled, looking relieved. Because that motion was a sign. A question of “Is it safe to speak freely here?”

            “The room is secure,” Yuuki told him. “No listening devices or chance of being overheard. Now tell me. Do you know who I am?”

            “Yes,” Hatano said. “You’re –” _Grandfather._ “My boss.”

            “And my name is?” Yuuki prompted.

            “Lt. Colonel Yuuki,” said Hatano softly. “I – you – were we . . .”

            “Take your time,” Yuuki told him. “Decide on your question then ask it.”

            Hatano sighed. “This . . . sounds stupid, I know, but . . . were we undercover as a grandfather and grandson?”

            “Yes,” Yuuki told him. “I’m glad you remember that much. Do you know your name?”

            Hatano frowned at him, awaiting clarification.

            “The name that I gave you,” obliged Yuuki.

            “Hatano,” he answered. That name felt more real to him than the one he’d been born to. Then he realized that might not be the full answer Yuuki was looking for. “Wait. My role’s name . . . Namika Sho.”

            “Good,” said Yuuki.

            Hatano smiled at the praise, then caught himself. He schooled his expression back to neutral.

            “Tell me what you remember.”

            “My training for the agency,” said Hatano. “My life before training. My . . . colleagues. The other seven.”

            “Seven?” asked Yuuki. A test.

            “Are you telling me that Odagiri isn’t sending you classified intel from Manchuria?” asked Hatano.

            Yuuki smirked. “Continue.”

            “Um. I remember leaving for France. Then I remember waking up on this ship. But between that . . . Oh right, my father was – no. No, that’s not right . . .” Hatano was fairly certain that his father was not responsible for his current condition. His mind was mixing up the one who was usually responsible for him being in pain with the ones currently responsible for him being in pain. But Yuuki had told him that it was German soldiers who’d given him a beating and put him in this position. He tried harder to remember. His head felt like it was about to split open and he groaned in pain, clutching his temples.

            A cool hand brushed against his forehead. “Don’t force yourself. It will come back to you in time,” said Yuuki.

            Hatano wanted to look up at him in surprise. But the coolness of his hand felt astonishingly nice against his burning head, and moving seemed like a lot of effort.

            “But do we have that time?” asked Hatano. “What’s our mission status?”

            “We have that time. We’re on our way home from France,” said Yuuki, “where you successfully completed every mission and request I assigned you. Do you remember your time in France?”

            “Uh uh. I mean no. Sir.”

            “You may drop the formalities. And I’m sure you’ll remember in time.”

            “I remember it was a cream puff assignment,” said Hatano. “So how did it turn out like this?”

            “Do you remember that France was invaded by Germany?”

            Nazi soldiers in the streets. A swastika flag flying from the Eifel Tower. German soldiers in uniforms going BOOM! in a dust explosion. A young woman pulling a gun on Hatano. A man holding out a hand to him in friendship. More German soldiers, hitting him, beating him, cracking his head open –

            “Hatano!”

            Hatano realized he’d been shaking. He struggled to get himself under control.

            “Lay down,” ordered Yuuki. Hatano felt himself being pressed down onto the bed.

            “S-sorry.”

            “It’s alright. Hatano . . . are you aware that you have brain damage?”

            “What?”

            “Your head has taken far more hits than is advisable,” Yuuki told him. “Repeatedly. That is why you have memory loss. And why you’re having a hard time staying awake. Amongst other things.”

            “What other things?” demanded Hatano.

            “Other, smaller symptoms. Nothing we can’t deal with,” said Yuuki. “But I need you to trust me –”

            “I do,” said Hatano.

            Yuuki paused and looked down at him with a surprised expression. Hatano tried to figure out if he’d said something weird. But he couldn’t think of anything. Maybe Yuuki was just surprised he’d interrupted him? No, that couldn’t be it. Hatano was insubordinate like that all the time.

            Oh, wait, Yuuki was talking again.

            “You don’t need to remember what happened in France right now. What’s important is that you give no indication that your missions in France ever happened. Because near the end of your mission, you ran into some complications, which have led to our current situation. And there is currently an enemy operative on the ship with us now. Do you recall the porter who directed us to our cabin when we boarded?”

            “Yes,” said Hatano slowly. There was something important about that. He just needed to remember. Oh, that’s right. “I saw him again, Yuuki-san. When . . . I was on the deck by myself. I think it was the last time I was awake before now. It was right before . . . before you carried me back here.”

            Dammit. He’d been running around, acting like an idiot without his memories, making a fool of himself in front of Yuuki-san. Forcing Yuuki-san to pretty much babysit him. How humiliating.

            “That’s right,” said Yuuki, oblivious to Hatano’s internal monologue. “And did you give him permission to fetch your jacket from this cabin to you?”

            “What? No, of course not,” said Hatano, sitting up in surprise. He was bewildered that Yuuki would even ask him that. Because he hadn’t, had he? No. He hadn’t. He was sure. He could remember their conversation now. “He offered. I declined. He was annoying. He went from too polite, to pushy, to suspicious, and I didn’t want him around me or my stuff. Not that I have much stuff here, but . . . it’s the principal. Maybe I should have broken his jaw. Wait, no, I don’t seriously mean that. That’s one of those things that I’d say jokingly to one of the others, without really meaning, but wouldn’t say in front of you. Normally. Except I just did. I-”

            “Calm down, boy,” said Yuuki, pressing a hand down on his shoulder. “Don’t work yourself into a frenzy.”

            “Right. Sorry.”

            “As things stand now, I believe we’re alright. He has no proof that you are, or rather were, Shimano Ryousuke. No physical evidence of that fact exists. At least not here on this ship. I have documents that support our cover story, and outline it for you. Do you feel capable of reviewing them right now?”

            Hatano lifted his hands so that he could look for the lines on his palms. Just as they had earlier, when he had no memories, they still blurred out of focus.

            “I’m sorry. My vision blurs when I try to focus on small details. I can’t read right now.” Hatano remembered something else and forced himself not to color with embarrassment. “Also, I picked your pocket earlier. I stole the bundle of letters you were carrying. I’m sorry about that too.”

            He waited for a reprimand. But Yuuki surprised him. A hand settled gently, atop his head for a moment, the way an adult might affectionately pat a child on the head for doing something amusing.

            Oh, that’s right, he remembered. We are in the roles of grandfather and grandson. He doesn’t mean anything by it, not really.

            For some reason that thought stung. The next thing Hatano knew his eyes were watering.

            No. No. I’m not crying in front of Yuuki-san. Again. Dammit, now that I think about it, I’ve been acting like a complete pansy with all the waterworks.

            Hatano forced himself to breathe steadily and get his body back under control. He had just managed to stop the tears that wanted so badly to flow, when his stomach growled loudly, betraying him.

            Dammit.

            “You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Yuuki said. “And it’s well past dinner now. Here.”

            A tray suddenly entered Hatano’s field of vision. A bowl of cold rice rested on it, along with an apple, a piece of bread, a chunk of cheese. Things that wouldn’t spoil if they were left to stand overnight, or a little longer. Yuuki had saved them for him.

            That made Hatano’s eyes start tearing up all over again.

            “Eat, Hatano,” ordered Yuuki. “And I’ll go over our cover stories for you. We’ll review them again tomorrow, to make sure that your mind is adequately recovered enough to keep new information in order.”

            Hatano forced himself to concentrate on the food, and on Yuuki’s words. It helped him shove aside that stupid desire to cry. He was a D-Agency spy. He needed to act like one. Because it was time to go to work.

* * *

            Notes: Hatano’s memory is finally repairing itself. And Yuuki is too relieved for words. He thinks it will be easier to be detached while playing the role of Hatano’s grandfather if Hatano isn’t so vulnerable from memory loss. Which just goes to show that even the best of them miscalculate from time to time, lol.

            Further Notes: I’m going to take a paragraph or two to fangirl about the Joker Game episode end cards. I just love them so much. I think they’re all perfect, and I want to get prints of them, especially the one for Episode 3 because it has both Hatano and a kitty!

            But the one that’s really my favorite is the final one. Because we look at that picture and we know exactly who each and every spy is, when in the first two episodes we had no idea who any of them were, except Miyoshi, and only him because he spent the whole first episode trolling poor Sakuma. But now, at the series end, we don’t even have to see their faces to know which is which. We can tell, just by looking at the reflections of their backs in a freaking puddle, because we know their hair colors, haircuts, heights, the colors of the suits they wear, and their unique poses (I’m looking at you, Hatano!) and the combination of those tells us which spy is which. And then there’s Yuuki. Finally appearing in an end card. And with all his boys, no less. But it’s one of those if you don’t pay attention you miss him type things, because this is a spy anime, and they’re counting on us to pick up these things after twelve episodes. And I love it!

 

And one final thing!  Tivanny drew me this fanart of Hatano and Jitsui in the café in Yokohama, and it's adorable! [http://tivanny2292.tumblr.com/image/147437740031 ](http://tivanny2292.tumblr.com/image/147437740031)If you want to see our favorite mini-angel spies looking all happy and chill together (and in glasses!) please go check it out! :)


	9. Chapter 9

            Yuuki had known better than to think that with the return of most of Hatano’s memories that his boy was nearly fully recovered. Even so, he was disappointed to be proven right in his prediction.

            Make no mistake, Hatano having his memories back helped tremendously. And the next day, when he quizzed Hatano on their cover story, he was very pleased when Hatano was able to recount all the details of it perfectly.

            But Hatano was far from being fully recovered.

            The most noticeable thing was how much he still slept. After falling asleep in the middle of eating his apple, Hatano stayed asleep until well past lunch the next day. Once he was awake, Yuuki allowed him out of their cabin, briefly. The plan was to allow him to wash up in the showers, then stop by the cafeteria to get him a solid meal. Hatano made it to the showers. He even managed to take a shower. But by the time he was finished, he was lethargic in drying himself, and then extremely clumsy when he tried to dress. Yuuki had to button his shirt and tie his shoes for him, and help him back to their cabin, or else Hatano would have fallen many, many times.

            “I’m sorry,” Hatano whispered, as Yuuki got him back to his bed. His eyes were over-wide, and glassy with tears pooling at the bottom. It was a sight that would have melted the heart of anyone who hadn’t let his turn to stone. And even for those who had, like Yuuki, it was still a trying sight.

            Yuuki pulled a blanket over Hatano and patted him on the chest. “It’s alright. You’re still recovering. You shouldn’t force yourself.”

            Hatano’s spontaneous crying was another noticeable sign that he was still far from recovered. And Yuuki worried that the boy might be exhibiting more than just ready tears. Depression was another possible side effect of head injuries. One that was infinitely more unpleasant for the one afflicted, and took far longer to go away. Sometimes, Yuuki knew, it never went away. He didn’t like to think of cheeky little Hatano living for months or the rest of his life, under a pal of gloom, but Yuuki was a realist. If he ignored the possibility of that, he couldn’t come up with a plan for dealing with it.

            Hatano’s vision hadn’t improved that day either. It was one of the things Yuuki had tested when they were going over their cover story. And it was clear that Hatano’s head was still causing him a good deal of pain.

            Nothing about the situation was ideal. And through it all, Hatano was still losing more weight. And he hadn’t had much spare to lose at the start of this trip. Yuuki had seen immediately that the boy had made great effort to stay in excellent athletic shape during his year-long stay in France. Smart of him. Hatano’s martial arts expertise had always been his trump card. Letting it fall to the wayside would have been careless. And out of character for him. But Yuuki couldn’t help but wish now that Hatano had allowed himself to put on at least a little bit of weight while he was in France.

            And there were other problems, aside from Hatano’s condition to consider. The porter was the next thing that Yuuki was most concerned about. He’d noticed the man tailing them when he took Hatano to the showers. The man was a pathetic amateur. But he held the upper hand in this situation, as much as Yuuki hated to admit it. Yuuki had no intel on him, not even his name, and couldn’t devote time or effort into learning anything about him right now. That would mean leaving Hatano unguarded, which Yuuki would not do in his condition. Not when the porter had the key to their cabin, and Hatano was not likely to even be conscious to defend himself if there was trouble.

            And finally, there was a personal matter that Yuuki knew was becoming a problem. His emotions were becoming compromised where Hatano was concerned.

            For the role he was playing, it was natural to care about the boy. Namika Sho was his role’s grandson. And grandfathers, even stern ones, almost always loved their grandchildren. It wasn’t unusual for grandparents to have better relationships with their grandchildren than they did with their own children. The reasons for that were vast, ranging from realizing their own mortality, and growing attached to the children that represented their bloodline being carried on, to realizing that they’d made a mess of their relationships with their actual children, and looking at their grandchildren as something like a second chance.

            Yuuki should have been unaffected by those reasonings. He had no real children of his own, and his bloodline was ending with him.   But it was ironically for those exact reasons that Yuuki believed he was being affected.

            He wasn’t going to live forever. A few decades more was the most he was expecting out of life. He could privately admit now that it might have been some desire to leave a legacy behind that had contributed to him founding D-Agency. Aside from the necessity of his country having an intelligence organization. The eight young men he’d trained to take his place were the only legacy that he was leaving behind. And in their own way, they were also something like his second chance. He’d sacrificed any chance of having a family of his own, and chosen a life of pitch black solitude. Yet now, here were people that were akin to him, in the ways that really mattered. Not in flesh and bloodline, but in personality and intelligence.

            The thought of one of them being threatened filled Yuuki with icy rage. He wanted to kill the porter, the closest, clearest threat to Hatano. He was even weighing it in his mind, trying to find if he could justify it. It wasn’t like Yuuki had never killed before. He’d left a nice pile of corpses in his wake, when he escaped from those soldiers in Germany, all those years ago. And the one who’d leaked his cover, and landed him in their hands had suffered brake failure to his car, which caused a fatal accident. And there were a few other times. Make no mistake, Yuuki didn’t kill lightly. Only when it was the only way for him to preserve his own life, or when someone’s continued existence was too great a detriment to his country.

            Right now he couldn’t justify killing the porter. He wanted to. More than he’d ever wanted to kill anyone before. But doing so would endanger the mission. And the mission was getting Hatano back home safely. And himself back home.

            He knew that he should be prioritizing his own safety over Hatano’s. Every bit of experience garnered from his life as a spy told him so. He was D-Agency’s leader, in possession of more vital information, in a position where he had some influence over the idiots ruling their country. If only one of them could get back, logic dictated it should be Yuuki. But his compromised emotions were insisting otherwise.

            I need to control myself better, thought Yuuki, many times over the next few days. It did not help that when he thought it for the first time, he realized a moment later that he had unconsciously sat down on the edge of Hatano’s bed, and had rested a comforting hand on the boy’s brow as he slept.

            He’d taken to touching Hatano too much, he realized too. Comforting Hatano with touches, reassuring himself by touching the boy, letting the boy lean on him, or even carrying him when he was too exhausted to walk on his own. He needed to curb that. He was forgetting that his role was of a stern grandfather, not a doting one. It was alright to be affectionate when his grandson was in imminent danger. But now that he was out of it, Yuuki needed to return to being stern.

            That would help him put a lid on his emotions, until this mission was over. Then he could shed the role of being a grandfather. And avoid putting himself in a role like this one again, except in the direst of circumstances.

            Hatano was not his grandson. None of his spies were. He needed subordinates. Not children. It was a mistake to think anything else.

 

* * *

 

 

            Yuuki-san was mad. Hatano could tell. And he knew why.

            He’d screwed up far too many times. And now he wasn’t recovering fast enough. But there was nothing he could do to fix that, as much as he wanted to.

            The next time he woke, late on the evening of the day he’d taken a shower, Yuuki ordered him up and out of bed, then immediately took him to the cafeteria for a meal. His boss piled his tray full and essentially told him to get to work. But there was way too much there. Even on a good day, Hatano couldn’t have finished half of it in one go. He gorged himself on as much of it as he could. And then a little more. Then he turned to Yuuki to tell him he was at his limit.

            Yuuki nodded curtly and had the rest of the food, and more, packaged to take back to their cabin. By the time they were ready to go, Hatano was feeling exhausted and dizzy. Yuuki helped him back to their cabin. But Hatano got the strong sense this time that he was only doing it because it’s what his role would have done. Not because he wanted to. Which was stupid, because when had Yuuki ever been helping him because he wanted to? It had all been because he’d been playing the role of Hatano’s grandfather.

            A very large part of Hatano wanted to start acting like a cheeky brat, and demand that Yuuki carry him back to their cabin. Yuuki had done it before, there was precedent for it. But Hatano didn’t feel like now was the time to toe the line of how far he could push Lt. Colonel Yuuki.

            He knew he’d made the right move when Yuuki released him as soon as they were back in their cabin and the door was locked behind them. Yuuki immediately began inspecting the safeguards he’d set up to make sure they’d know if anyone entered their cabin while they were gone. Hatano stumbled back to his bed and made it there under his own volition. But it was a near thing. He collapsed face down halfway on top of it, and not intentionally. If it had been any further away he would have ended up on the floor.

            “Are you alright?” asked Yuuki grudgingly.

            “Yes, Grandfather,” said Hatano, trying not to sound too bitter. He didn’t want to make the word “Grandfather” sound like an insult. Really, he didn’t.

            “The room is secure,” said Yuuki. “No one has been in here.”

            Good to know. Hatano almost said it out loud. He wanted to. But the next thing he knew, he was waking up, staring at the ceiling, and it was the next morning.

            Yuuki’s mood didn’t improve. Even when he quizzed Hatano on their covers again, and Hatano got it all right.

            Hatano managed to stay awake for several hours this time. But there was nothing for him to really be doing during that time. He still couldn’t read because his vision was too blurred up close. Yuuki didn’t want him running around on deck or socializing with other passengers when they never knew how long Hatano would manage to stay awake. So he laid in bed until he fell back asleep. And when he woke again it was the next day, but long before breakfast.

            “You don’t have to stay here and babysit me while I sleep, sir,” Hatano told Yuuki when next they spoke, after Yuuki woke up near six. “I’m fine on my own.”

            “You’re not,” said Yuuki curtly. “Your sleep tendencies need to be chemically reconditioned. If I left you here, I’m entirely likely to come back and find that porter slit your throat in your sleep.”

            Ouch. Yuuki had really lost all confidence in Hatano. It stung worse than Hatano would have thought.

            Another trip was made to the showers and then to the cafeteria. This time Yuuki helped Hatano even less. Hatano ended up tying his own shoes, even though he couldn’t see the laces clearly. When they finally made it back to their cabin, trying to get them off was a nightmare. And that was the last straw. Tears that Hatano had been holding back for the previous few days finally burst free. The next thing he knew, he was sobbing, trying to bury his face in his hands to keep Yuuki from seeing, which was pointless because Yuuki saw everything, and now he knew just how weak Hatano really was.

            And it was even worse because then Yuuki actually started pitying him. That cool hand returned to his brow, trying to comfort him, though Yuuki didn’t speak many words. But the ones he did speak were . . . nice.

            “Your brain is recovering. You’re getting better each passing day. In time you’ll be back to normal. But this isn’t something that can be rushed.”

            This was something that needed to be rushed. Hatano needed to get better so he could be useful again and Yuuki would stop hating him.

            “Have . . . to . . . g-g-et . . . b-bet-ter,” Hatano stuttered around his sobs. “D-don’t-t-t w-want . . . to . . . b-be . . . useless.”

            “You’re not,” said Yuuki simply.

            “Am!”

            The hand was removed from his brow. And Hatano sobbed harder. Now he’d done it. He couldn’t do anything right!

            But then an arm wrapped around his shoulders, and Yuuki sat down on the bed beside him. It seemed . . . it felt . . . like an invitation. Even though Hatano had never gotten an invitation like this before. Until this trip, he hadn’t cried in front of anyone since he realized that tears didn’t sway his father when his father was in a mood. And his father had certainly never tried to comfort him. Let alone wrap an arm around him and try to draw him into an embrace. But that’s what Yuuki was doing now. When Hatano didn’t turn into the embrace on his own, Yuuki applied a slight amount of pressure, pulling Hatano toward him. Hatano didn’t resist. And the next thing he knew, his face was pressed against Yuuki’s chest as he continued to sob.

            “You’re going to be alright, son,” Yuuki said softly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

            Confusion swept over Hatano. He couldn’t tell if this was Yuuki playing his role of Namika Sho’s grandfather or . . . something else. If he was playing his role, he’d messed up. He’d established that he normally called Sho “Grandson,” when he wasn’t calling him by name. But Yuuki wasn’t prone to screwing up like that. So did that mean that this was the something else?

            This didn’t feel like pity now. Hatano didn’t know what it felt like. He didn’t have enough experience with this kind of thing.

            Mercifully, sleep started to overtake Hatano. Crying was exhausting. He was glad to have a blackout ending to his embarrassment. But one final coherent thought crystallized in his mind before he fell asleep.

            Why couldn’t Yuuki-san have been my father?

 

* * *

 

 

            Well, Yuuki thought, carefully holding his armful of sleeping teenager, even after Hatano had given in to unconsciousness again. That failed horrifically.

            He was disgusted by his own lack of foresight. Hatano had interpreted him pulling back emotionally as him being disgusted by his inability to recover faster. And in the end, seeing Hatano struggling valiantly alone, doing everything he could to earn Yuuki’s approval, had only left Yuuki feeling even more compromised now than he had when he started trying to change this.

            If shutting this down wasn’t an option then Yuuki was going to have to find some sort of middle ground. Or else learn to function the way he always used to, even though he now had something, or rather someone . . . alright, eight someones, more important to him than any one mission.

 

* * *

 

 

            Notes:  Hatano is such a little shit, just going and worming his way past the Demon King’s defenses and right into his heart. Without even meaning to. The feels are there to stay, Yuuki! It happens to the best of us. What, you thought you were immune? Uh uh, no one’s immune. Hey, you’re the one who created these monsters, now take responsibility!

 

            Serious Notes Now: So yes, not too much happened in this chapter (sorry) but I wanted to show the ways that this was hard for Yuuki too, and this was the best way I could figure out how to do so. I didn’t want to spend spanning chapters of him trying to repress his newfound fatherly instincts, because I think that would have made the story slow and been unrealistic. Unrealistic since spies are required to adapt to constantly changing situations, and as a realist, Yuuki wouldn’t take so long to realize that this wasn’t something that was going away. Ergo, the only solution is to adapt to this new part of him. Next chapter I plan to try to get back to the plot.

 

And one final note about Odagiri: (sorry for so many notes, but I confused some people last chapter with the Odagiri reference) (Also, Episode 12 SPOILERS ahead. Fair warning) I think that after Odagiri leaves D-Agency and returns to the military he remembers just why he left the military to begin with. Suddenly he’ll be surrounded by irrational, kool-aide drinking imperialists who can’t think for themselves, and don’t have a strategic bone in their bodies anyway. His time at D-Agency is going to make his situation back in the military both worse and better. Worse, because he knows how effective things could be, if you let people think and act to their potential. And if you have someone intelligent calling the shots. But better, because his training has prepared him for long stints undercover, playing a role that he may very well loathe. So he waits, and watches, and blends in. And then he sees something useful. Like . . . say . . . some second-class secretary who works for the Soviet Union consulate in Manchuria, who’s up to his eyes in debt because he’s been blowing money on a blonde Harbin nightclub girl. In other words, a valuable spring of information, but one that must be handled properly to be of any use. Odagiri remembers his D-Agency telegraph sequence, and their codes, and probably the dozen other ways Yuuki came up with for his spies to stealthily relay information back to D-Agency while they were abroad. And it’s like instinct. The mission that was imprinted into his very subconscious has him doing exactly what he was trained to do, whether he’s still officially part of D-Agency or not. So by the end of the week, Yuuki has a coded message in his hand, a smirk on his face, and a plan to send one of his currently in resident spies to Manchuria to “burn” this Soviet secretary’s habit.


	10. Chapter 10

            Either Yuuki-san stopped being mad, or Hatano had been misinterpreting how he’d felt about the situation, because the next day thing Yuuki seemed different. He seemed less frustrated, and had gone back to treating Hatano as he had before, when Hatano didn’t remember who he was.

            It was a weight off Hatano’s mind, that Yuuki didn’t seem mad at him anymore. But still he struggled.

            Staying awake for more than a few hours was hard. Even impossible. Hatano tried really hard, but he couldn’t resist the pull of unconsciousness. And when Yuuki-san noticed him trying to, he got stern.

            “Your brain heals while it’s asleep. This is your brain’s way of telling you that you have a lot of healing to be done. Don’t fight it, boy.”

            It was possible he said more, but by that time, Hatano had usually blacked out.

            When he was awake, Yuuki got him out of the cabin as much as he could, even though it meant constantly setting up security measures and even checking the room over for listening devices upon their return, just to be safe. They never found any, but Yuuki was anything but careless.

            For the next week, the only other places on the ship Hatano managed to make it to were still the showers and the cafeteria. Or to the deck. Sometimes just for a little while, when it was too windy or raining, but when the weather was nice, he and Yuuki sat in deck chairs, watching the ocean, until Hatano tired. There were a couple times that Hatano couldn’t remember walking back to their cabin. He assumed Yuuki carried him, but was too embarrassed to ask. And Yuuki never mentioned it. So Hatano had to assume that if that was what happened, Yuuki didn’t mind it too much.

            In the week that followed, Hatano started being able to stay awake longer. Two or three hours of consciousness stretched into four, then five, then six. He and Yuuki started going for walks around the ship, to keep Hatano’s muscles from weakening any more than they already had.

            Eventually his vision cleared up at close range. When it did, Yuuki returned his bundle of letters to him, and Hatano re-read them all.

            “I have a question,” Hatano said to Yuuki that night, and he held up Jitsui’s letter. “I remember trying to figure out this one before we got on this ship. And right after we got on the ship. But I wasn’t able to then. I doubt I’ll be able to now. Give me a hint, Yuuki-san?”

            Yuuki glanced at the letter and gave him an indulgent look. “There’s no hidden meaning to it.”

            “What? But then . . .” Hatano tried to figure out what this meant. His thought processes were still slower than they normally were. And when he thought too hard it alternately made his head hurt worse or made him dizzy. “I don’t understand.”

            “Kaminaga is currently in residence,” said Yuuki. “Since the beginning of the year, he’s been Jitsui’s primary handler. He’s been telling Jitsui more than he should about your mission.”

            “Huh? That doesn’t sound like him,” said Hatano. “Or Jitsui. He wouldn’t want to know –”

            “If you boys have a failing, it’s keeping information about one of you being in trouble from the others,” said Yuuki.

            “But I wasn’t in trouble until just recently,” said Hatano. “And you were already in France by that time.”

            “I’m talking about when the Nazis invaded,” said Yuuki.

            Hatano still didn’t understand. “I don’t remember sending any distress signals or failing any missions. Did I?”

            “No. You did everything right. But your contacts didn’t always. It’s to be expected that they’d exercise greater caution once the country had been occupied by a foreign power,” said Yuuki. “But their delay in turn caused us a delay in getting your missives. We had no word from you for nearly two months.”

            “So Kaminaga was worried,” said Hatano. Then something else occurred to him. “Wait, why was he being updated on my missions if you were already having him be a handler for Jitsui?”

            Yuuki’s pause was minute, almost nonexistent. But Hatano was sure that he had paused.

            “I sent Kaminaga on a very trying mission last year. Upon his return, I evaluated him. Make no mistake, he completed his assignment brilliantly. But I deemed it necessary to give him at least a full year to recover from it, before placing him undercover again. And rather than let him grow stagnant, I decided to give him more responsibilities, and let him learn,” said Yuuki.

            “Oh?” Hatano smirked. For a second, he felt like his old self. His thoughts were racing the way they used to, with no interference. “And here I thought Miyoshi was the shoe in as your successor.”

            “Surely you weren’t blind to Kaminaga’s potential either?” Yuuki challenged.

            Hatano shrugged. “I’ll happily follow either. But Miyoshi doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.”

            “Oh yes. That.” Yuuki sighed. “Jitsui always asks about you. Without fail. Not for details. Just assurances that you were in no trouble. After almost two months without hearing from you after Germany occupied France, Kaminaga failed to keep his poker face. I know you’re aware of what Jitsui can be like when he’s suspicious.”

            Hatano smirked.

            “At his next check in, Kaminaga was able to report the good news. That all was well with you. And that there was an opportunity for him to contact you, via a cover story letter,” said Yuuki. “Jitsui, as you can see, took advantage of that opportunity.”

            “You gave him an invitation to write this?” asked Hatano.

            “No. Kaminaga did. It was a useless bit of sentimentality, yes, but when he brought back the letter, I allowed it,” said Yuuki. “It risked nothing, and added a very slight element of realism to our cover.”

            “Hm. And how does Miyoshi feel about Kaminaga getting administrative assignments over him?” asked Hatano.

            “Miyoshi only returned to the agency briefly, to hand off very some important intel. He has his own assignment, and no reason to be jealous.”

            “No drama then? Pity,” said Hatano. “But he and Amari seemed to have a good time, insulting each other . . . in the letters you had them write.”

            Yuuki didn’t miss Hatano’s unintended pause. “Are you alright?”

            “My head . . . hurts worse now. Dammit.” Hatano grimaced. “For a second . . . I felt like my old self, Yuuki-san. I could think clearly again. I thought maybe I was finally better.”

            He clenched his jaw, because tears were suddenly welling up in his eyes. It was the first time in a week since he’d felt like bursting into tears.

            Yuuki’s cool hand pressed against his brow. Hatano leaned into it without realizing what he was doing. For some reason, when his head hurt, Yuuki’s touch seemed to help relax him, and eased the pain, however slightly.

            “You’ve been awake nearly nine hours,” said Yuuki. “You’re getting back to where you need to be.”

            “Not fast enough,” muttered Hatano.

            “Your rate of progression is fine. It’s a long voyage from France to Japan.”

            “And half of it’s gone. And we still haven’t dealt with that porter.”

            The porter had been watching them. Not too closely, but he was definitely paying more attention to Hatano and Yuuki than he should have been. Yuuki had judged him not to be an immediate threat, and Hatano trusted Yuuki’s judgement. But that didn’t mean he liked having an enemy agent running around on the same ship as them and not being able to do anything about it.

            Under normal circumstances, they would have done something about him already, even if it was only to break into his quarters and go through his things to see if they could find what was motivating him. But circumstances weren’t ordinary now. And Yuuki had refused to leave Hatano alone, even though Hatano swore he’d be fine.

            It irked Hatano to be a burden to Yuuki. But it confused him because it also felt kind of nice, knowing someone was looking out for him. It wasn’t something he was used to.

            “Lay down. Rest,” ordered Yuuki. “We’ll talk about what to do about the porter tomorrow.”

            “Really?” asked Hatano.

            “Yes.”

            Hatano laid down, but stared up at Yuuki-san. “You’re not just saying that because you think I’ll forget about this conversation by tomorrow?”

            “No. I’m not.”

            “You’re sure? You haven’t promised me we’d talk about it before, and then I forget, so you can promise all over again, but never actually go through with it?” Hatano asked.

            Yuuki smirked. “What? You don’t remember?”

            Hatano let his lower lip jut out. “You’re mean.”

            “You won’t find a single person in the world who would argue against that statement,” Yuuki told him.

            “Hm. I would.”

            “What?” Yuuki asked, looking confused.

            Hatano yawned. “I was just fooling around. You’re really not mean. All eight of us know that.”

            “I thought I taught you boys to be observant,” said Yuuki drily.

            “You did,” said Hatano sleepily, not really thinking about his words. “That’s how we know you’re not really mean. We like you, Yuuki-san.”

            Yuuki made an inelegant noise halfway between a cough and a choke that Miyoshi would have made fun of him for regardless of the fact that he was their boss. Hatano told him as much. Then Yuuki sighed.

            “You’re half asleep. You don’t even know what you’re saying right now.”

            “Hm. I wonder.”

            “Go the rest of the way to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” said Yuuki gruffly.

            “Alright. Good night, Grandfather.”

 

 

* * *

 

            Yuuki was true to his word. He did speak with Hatano about the porter, the next morning. Even though Hatano didn’t seem to remember the conversation they’d had about how they were going to talk about the man. Or any of the nonsense he’d babbled afterward. Yuuki attributed that to exhaustion and his state of semi-consciousness, rather than brain damage. He’d already satisfied himself that Hatano was capable of retaining new information. And that his older memories were in order. The only thing Hatano had a hard time remembering now was the past year he’d spent in France.

            “I’m going to search his quarters,” Yuuki told Hatano. “I’m going to leave you on deck, in one of the chairs.”

            “My job is to sit on my ass and do nothing?” demanded Hatano, looking very annoyed.

            “And by doing that, you’ll be distracting him. I know you’ve noticed him hovering nearby on deck when we sit there.”

            “Yeah,” admitted Hatano. “And his interest is definitely in me, not you. But I don’t understand why. What makes him so sure I’m Shimano Ryousuke?”

            “I think it’s likely more that he wants you to be Shimano, than really believes you are,” said Yuuki. “If he could hand over a dangerous fugitive like that to the Germans, you know what he could gain.”

            “A small amount of money and a pat on the back.” Hatano stretched his arms. “That’s really bad for my self esteem, Yuuki-san.”

            Yuuki tried not to smile. “You know what he would gain. Most likely, he doesn’t. People like to overestimate the rewards they’ll get for deeds they haven’t completed yet.”

            “Why are there so many stupid people in the world, Yuuki-san?”

            This time Yuuki did smirk. But he ignored Hatano’s question. The boy wasn’t likely expecting an answer. “You’ll start off on the deck, and remain there as long as there are other people around. He’s not likely to approach you while there are other people around. If everyone leaves the deck, I want you to go to the cafeteria and remain there until I come and get you.”

            Hatano nodded once. It was a mark of how much he’d improved that he didn’t grab his head or even wince after making that motion. The boy still suffered from headaches, but he reported that they were diminishing. Yuuki was glad. Seeing him in constant pain had been extremely trying.

            “If something unexpected arises, I trust you to deal with it as you see fit,” said Yuuki. “Your mind is nearly back to the level where we need it to be. Just remember that your body is not. Avoid being drawn into combat if at all possible.”

            “Yes sir,” said Hatano. Yuuki could tell by the glimmer in his eyes, that he didn’t appreciate the implication that the porter might be able to beat him in a fight. In all honestly, Yuuki didn’t think that the odds of the porter beating Hatano, even now, were even as good as one in a hundred. But Hatano would be going into the fight with a major disadvantage.

            “Whatever else you do, do not allow him to hit you in the head. Not even lightly.”

            After all the damage done to his brain already, even a light hit could prove deadly, or undo all of his healing from the past few weeks. There was a large part of Yuuki that didn’t want to leave Hatano alone at all. He knew that the risks Hatano would be taking were minimal right now. But he still didn’t like leaving him alone.

            It was those pesky new-found fatherly instincts. Yuuki had to remind himself that finding information to help them deal with the porter was what would keep Hatano safe in the long run. That fact was what helped him resolve to do this, even more than the knowledge that this was what needed to be done.

            “I understand, sir,” said Hatano. He probably didn’t appreciate being coddled. There was no way he could. But right now there wasn’t a trace of that on his face. His expression was a blank mask that showed nothing. A perfect poker face. The expression all his spies wore when they were most serious.

            It was reassuring. It meant Hatano was ready to go to work.

            “Alright.” Yuuki strode to the door and opened it. “Come, grandson.”

 

* * *

 

 

            They weren’t on the deck long before the porter showed up. Hatano couldn’t help wondering why the ship had such a useless person on its staff. It seemed like the porter spent a stupid amount of time just waiting for him and Yuuki to leave their cabin, so he could follow them around. It seemed like he should have had something better to be doing. Actual work or something.

            It briefly occurred to him to wonder if this man was really a porter. If maybe he was just pretending to be a porter, and was actually either a civilian . . . or something more sinister. But he dismissed the notion quickly enough. The Hakusan Maru was a big ship, but not one so big that a fake porter could go unnoticed. The staff all knew each other. If there was an outsider just pretending to be one of them, they would know.

            “You’re alright here, on your own, Sho?” asked Yuuki, rising several minutes after the porter’s arrival. “I’m a bit tired. I think I might take a nap in our cabin.”

            Hatano smiled sweetly. “I’m fine, Grandfather. But should I walk you back?”

            “No,” said Yuuki. “You stay here. The fresh air will do you good.”

            Then Yuuki departed. And Hatano continued with his role of sitting around, doing nothing. It was really boring. Especially knowing that Yuuki got the fun role of breaking and entering. And Hatano had always really liked snooping through other peoples’ stuff. It would have been a guilty pleasure of his, except he never felt guilty about it.

            The porter continued to monitor him, from a not too discreet distance. Hatano felt a wave of revulsion for the man. He couldn’t believe that an amateur like this was causing him such trouble.

            But then the porter decided to make things interesting, and Hatano was almost relieved. Because the man did exactly what Yuuki predicted he wouldn’t do, and approached Hatano, right in front of four other people, who were seated in nearby deck chairs.

            “Namika-san,” the porter said urgently. “I’m afraid I have some troubling news.”

            The man spoke loudly, Hatano noted. He wanted the other passengers to hear. This stank like a trap.

            Hatano put on his most innocent face and blinked up at the porter. “What’s wrong?”

            “Your grandfather. He suddenly collapsed. We’ve taken him to the ship’s infirmary. I need you to come with me, right away.”

            A frown slipped over Hatano’s face, as he noticed the pitying and concerned expressions of the nearby passengers. The porter had just entrapped him. He had no choice now but to leave.

            Well played, Hatano thought at his adversary. And he shakily stood up.

* * *

 

            Notes: Nearing the end of this fic! Only a couple chapters left. But don’t worry, I’m planning a sequel. :)


	11. Chapter 11

            Yuuki’s investigation into the porter’s possessions didn’t turn up anything dangerous and damning. But then, Yuuki hadn’t expected it to. The porter, whose name Yuuki had discovered earlier, was Tosaka Yujiro, was no spy. Yuuki would have bet his life on it. The man had nothing related to spycraft in his quarters. No tools of the trade like lockpicks, or items that could be substituted for lock picks. And nothing that was even more of a giveaway, like listening devices, or vials of unmarked liquids.

            The porter was, however, in debt, Yuuki learned. Not horribly, but enough to make him feel pressured. And he had been for some time. Yuuki found evidence of that in the ledger where the man marked out his finances. The markings in red extended back some five years. The salary he drew from his job aboard this ship wouldn’t get him into the black for at least another five years. So he’d been hoping to come into a windfall in the form of Shimano Ryousuke. Yuuki did find proof of this in the form of a crumpled up wanted bill,that the German soldiers must have passed off to the porter when they were docked in France.

            Shimano Ryousuke actually had a decent bounty on his head. Nothing spectacular, but more than Yuuki would have expected. Testament to how much Hatano had pissed the Nazis off, Yuuki assumed, feeling a surge of pride. If the porter got that reward, he would have only needed four years and eleven months to pay off his debt, with his current salary. The idiot.

            One thing Yuuki didn’t find, that he really wished he could, was any indication of how the porter intended to contact the Germans if he did find evidence that Hatano was Shimano. The porter had no communications equipment, which was reassuring on its own, but meant that he must be planning to use the ship’s communications systems. That was troubling. It meant that he expected he’d be allowed to use them. Which meant either he was in a higher position of power than Yuuki had thought, he had friends who would look the other way for him, or even aid him in sending transmission to the German military, or he was delusional. The last one was most likely. But Yuuki knew better than to count on it. He would have to assume that both the others were viable options until he had evidence to disprove them. That made things more complicated. It meant that he would have to discredit the porter if he wanted to take any action against him.

            Well, at the moment Yuuki was not in a position to take action against the porter. And as long as the porter was only skulking about in the background, not taking direct action against Hatano, Yuuki could let things be. If the porter did decide to take action against Hatano . . . Yuuki had to consider that assassination might be the safest option.

            “Don’t die, don’t kill,” was the motto he’d taught all his spies. But like every other stratagem and tactical rule, it was conditional. If someone was trying to kill you and the only way to survive was to kill them, then every single one of Yuuki’s spies knew to do what they had to.

            The same philosophy applied here. If it seemed like the porter was about to back Hatano into a corner, and the threat of him being arrested by the Germans was becoming too likely, Yuuki would solve the problem by breaking the porter’s neck and dropping him into the drink.

            But that was only if things began to look like they would take a turn for the worse.

            His investigation finished, Yuuki did one final check to make sure everything was back where he found it, then left the room. He would tell Hatano what he found. His boy’s self esteem might be restored a bit to learn that the bounty on Shimano Ryousuke was higher than expected. Worth the equivalent of four whole weeks of a porter’s crummy salary, instead of just the few pennies they’d expected.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Your grandfather. He suddenly collapsed. We’ve taken him to the ship’s infirmary. I need you to come with me, right away.”

            A frown slipped over Hatano’s face, as he noticed the pitying and concerned expressions of the nearby passengers. The porter had just entrapped him. He had no choice now but to leave.

            Well played, Hatano thought at his adversary. And he shakily stood up. But not well played enough!

Then it took every bit of his self control not to give the D-Agency trademarked spy smirk, as he threw himself toward the porter.

            His hands clasped down on the porter’s shoulders, and he made his eyes go as wide as they could. His expression was one of terror. He knew that it was melting the hearts of the several female passengers, who had been watching this scene. He and Jitsui had practiced making adorable expressions. Their youth and childlike appearances were just more weapons in their arsenal. Weapons that their older counterparts didn’t have. Neither of the younger spies thought it was right to let them go to waste. So they had taken the time to figure out just how wide to open their eyes for maximum effect, and the exact set their mouths should be at to portray complete vulnerability.

            “Grandfather collapsed? How? When? Is he alright? Please, tell me he’s alright,” Hatano cried, letting tears spring to his eyes. “Please . . .”

            The porter faltered. This was a reaction he had not been expecting. “I – er – If you’ll come with me –”

            “Where is he? The infirmary?” Hatano abruptly released the porter and started to run toward the interior of the ship. He deliberately almost crashed into a woman who’d been drawing closer to eavesdrop, narrowly missing her at the last second. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But my grandfather. He collapsed. I need to see him.” He let the tears spill over from his eyes, sketched a hasty bow, and then took off. But not before he had time to see the pity and adoration in the woman’s eyes.

            Maybe I should tone it down a couple notches. Otherwise someone’s going to want to adopt me, Hatano thought as he raced across the deck. Then he changed his mind. Nah. It never hurt anyone to get killed by cuteness. Unless Jitsui was involved. Then it hurt a lot.

            He didn’t actually know where the infirmary was. But even if he had, Hatano still would have stopped and asked the numerous other porters and other ship employees he met along the way. Right now he was trying to be the opposite of discreet. He wanted everyone who saw him to remember him. And his tears. And his fear about his grandfather’s condition.

            Yuuki collapsing was a blatant lie. The porter had been on the deck, watching Hatano ever since Yuuki left. So the porter had decided to try to move against Hatano, now that he was finally alone. Hatano didn’t know exactly what he wanted. If he had to guess, it was probably something along the lines of isolating him from the other passengers, then trying to get information out of him. Either by tricking him into saying something. Or more nefariously, by drugging him. But whatever he’d been going for, it had just blown up in his face.

            Yuuki-san had trusted Hatano to deal with unexpected situations as he saw fit. Hatano’s plan now was unorthodox, but he didn’t think Yuuki would disprove. Yuuki approved of results. And Hatano was going to get results.

            Despite his many stops to beg directions and infect other ship employees with sympathy, Hatano made it to the infirmary before the porter. But he didn’t think that the porter was actually going there now that his plan had been derailed. The infirmary was too public.

            The ship doctor listened to Hatano’s fearful explanation of why he was there, but told him that no elderly men had been brought in for collapsing that day, or since the ship had left France. And the nurses stopped working to watch, as Hatano sank to his knees, shaking in relief.

            “I was so scared,” he told the first nurse to approach him, his voice trembling, as he wiped away his tears, like he was embarrassed. “My grandfather . . . he’s always been there for me. I don’t want to think about . . . about him being . . . sick.”

            He looked away, letting is face twist slightly in an anguished look that even Odagiri had confirmed was an adorable anguished look.

            “Oh honey,” the nurse said, patting him on the head, “I’m so sorry you got a fright. But we haven’t gotten any new patients all day, and this is where they’d bring anyone who took ill on this ship.”

            Hatano stared deliberately at the floor boards. “I don’t understand. Why did that porter tell me that?”

            “I don’t know, honey,” said the nurse. “I don’t know why he told you that. Maybe he was mistaken?”

            Hatano looked up at her bewildered. “But he knows my grandfather and me. That porter – I’ve seen him around a lot. He’s always been so nice to us. He’s always the first to ask if we need help.” Hatano let his expression crumple. “Was he just trying to play a mean trick on me?”

            “Aww, love. I’m sure it wasn’t that . . .”

            Another nurse, a younger one, stepped forward and knelt beside Hatano, holding a cup. “You don’t look so good. Here. Please drink this.”

            It was water and only water. So Hatano obeyed. Then let the nurse help him up. He swayed slightly, feigning dizziness.

            “You don’t look so good,” the first nurse said. “Why don’t you lie down?”

            “B-but I have to go find my grandfather,” Hatano protested weakly.

            “Then just sit a moment,” the younger nurse said.

            “We could send someone to find your grandfather for you,” the first nurse added. Between the two of them, they were maneuvering Hatano toward one of the infirmary ward’s beds. One that was next to an open cabinet stocked with medical supplies. Hatano’s eyes narrowed in on a row of identical bottles. He was familiar with that chemical. He could use that chemical now. In his plan. So he allowed the two nurses to guide him to that bed, but didn’t lie down. He just sat, as close to the shelf as he could.

            “Thank you,” Hatano said weakly, and gave the nurses a watery smile.

            “Sayuri,” called another nurse. “Could you please lend a hand over here?”

            The first nurse nodded, and gave Hatano another smile. “You just rest here for now. Even if it’s just for a few minutes. If you want, Michiko can go find your grandfather for you.”

            The younger nurse, Michiko, didn’t look thrilled about being volunteered for this job. It was clear she wanted to stay here with Hatano.

            “Thank you,” said Hatano, “but I’ll go myself in a minute.”

            “Alright,” said Sayuri. “But if you need anything, you just ask. We wouldn’t want you collapsing now, honey.”

            As she walked away, Hatano coughed dryly, and gave a slight wheeze.

            “Oh! Let me get you more water,” said Michiko. Then she bustled away to do just that.

            Hatano scanned the room once to make sure no one was watching him, then snagged one of the bottles from the back of the row, so it would be less obvious that a bottle was missing. He hid it inside his cap, twisting the fabric into a roll around the bottle, like it was a nervous gesture. A minute later, Michiko came back with more water. Hatano thanked her and drank it. Then he stood to leave.

            He turned the charm up a few notches as he made his exit, thanking the nurses, and the ship doctor for being so patient with him, even though he rudely barged in on them, and they were still so kind. He was sure they wouldn’t be forgetting about him anytime soon.

            Hatano then made his way back through the ship, being cautious. He didn’t want the porter to see him before he saw the porter. And he needed time for one final preparation before confronting the porter.

            The showers were empty when Hatano arrived there, which was lucky, and helped him speed up his agenda. He snagged a washcloth, doused it with the liquid in the bottle, then folded it carefully, and concealed it inside his shirt. Then he buried the bottle in the garbage can, so no one would find it casually. They’d have to dig it out from under several layers of garbage. Hatano then washed his hands well, making sure there was no trace of the chemical, or any other filth he’d touched on his hands. And then his preparations were complete. He was ready for his confrontation with the porter.

            Now if I was a slimy, not too intelligent porter who’d just had his plans screwed up and was going to be caught in a lie, where would I be? Hatano wondered. The deck was out of question. The porter wouldn’t want to be near the other passengers who’d witnessed his lie. If it were a member of D-Agency, they’d go somewhere without a lot of people, to minimize those who saw the fallout. Somewhere they could control the situation. But the porter was not a member of D-Agency. And Hatano was willing to bet he’d feel safer in a public place with lots of people. Because he was stupid.

            So, the cafeteria. Which was convenient, because Yuuki would be going there sooner or later. He would be finishing up his inspection of the porter’s quarters soon, if he hadn’t already. He’d go back to the deck and find Hatano gone, but the other passengers who’d been there when he left Hatano would most likely still be there. Yuuki would know something was amiss then. He would probably learn about the porter’s trick to draw Hatano off alone, from those other passengers. Then Yuuki would check two places for Hatano. Their cabin, and then the cafeteria. Their cabin, because it was the closest place they had to a safe house on this ship. And the cafeteria because that was where he’d told Hatano to go to wait for him if everyone on the deck left. The circumstances may have changed, but that place being a rendezvous point had not.

            Hopefully Yuuki wouldn’t beat him there and confront the porter first. That would throw a wrench into Hatano’s plan and force him to improvise. Maybe even make him scrap his plan altogether, which Hatano really didn’t want, because it was such a good plan.

            He didn’t bother hiding his spy smirk, as he made his way to the cafeteria.

 

* * *

 

 

           Yuuki felt a cold chill when returned to the deck and saw all the other passengers who had been with Hatano when he left him there, but Hatano himself was nowhere to be seen. Something had happened. The porter had made a move. And now Hatano was missing.

            “Excuse me, madam,” Yuuki said, approaching a woman near his own age, who he’d seen shoot Hatano a charmed look, when Yuuki had announced he was leaving, and Hatano had offered to walk him back to their cabin. “The boy who was here earlier, my grandson, do you know where he might have gone?”

            “Oh!” The woman looked at Yuuki with relief. “I think there must have been some mistake! A porter approached him not long after you left and told him that you had collapsed. He left for the infirmary and hasn’t come back.”

            Yuuki had to fight to keep his hand from clenching into a fist. That sneaky bastard. Hatano would have known the porter was lying, but the man had approached him in a way that would mean he couldn’t refuse to leave with him.

            “The poor boy seemed so distressed,” offered another woman. “He took off at a run so fast, the porter couldn’t even keep up with him.”

            Yuuki suppressed a smirk. Ha. That’s my boy.

            “Oh dear,” he said to the women. “How long ago was this?”

            “Perhaps a quarter of an hour? Give or take.”

            “I see,” mused Yuuki. “Poor Sho. Well, he must have made it to the infirmary and found that it wasn’t me who collapsed. He must be looking for me elsewhere now. I must go see if I can find him. If he returns here, could I trouble you to tell him I’m alright? And that I’m looking for him?”

            The other passengers assured him that yes, they would certainly do that. And after a few pleasantries about how they were so glad that he was alright, and hadn’t collapsed, and that they hoped he found his grandson quickly, they allowed Yuuki to depart.

            Their cabin was the first place Yuuki checked. But Hatano wasn’t there. Nor had he been there. He would have left Yuuki some sort of sign, if he had. Something subtle, like a handful of coins dropped on the floor. Or his cap left on Yuuki’s bed. Something that Yuuki would know was out of place, but that no one else would.

            Now Yuuki left a sign of his own, for Hatano. He quickly opened his luggage and found a box of playing cards. The same kind his boys used at D-Agency. Yuuki tossed that onto Hatano’s bed then left the room. Hatano would know how to interpret his sign, if he returned. At D-Agency, card games were always played in the cafeteria.

            Yuuki was not worried now. Well, not much. There was a slight twinge of fear that he couldn’t quite make go away. But it was nothing like the cold fear that had stopped him in his tracks when he saw Hatano missing from the deck. He wondered if that was the sort of thing parents felt when their young children disappeared from their sight in crowded shopping centers, train stations, and the like.

            But now that he knew what had happened, he felt better. He had confidence in Hatano’s abilities, and the boy’s actions had shown his confidence wasn’t misplaced. The porter had given his very best effort to coerce Hatano into going with him alone, and it had even been a good effort, but Hatano had blown that plan right up in his face in only seconds, and ditched him.

            He probably had gone to the infirmary, because that’s what his role would have done. Yuuki thought he should have had enough time to get back from the infirmary by now. And since he hadn’t returned to the deck or their cabin, the cafeteria was where he was sure he would find him. Yuuki planned to retrieve the boy, hear Hatano’s report on the situation, then reveal what he’d learned of the porter from his things. They would formulate their next move there. Or at least that was how Yuuki planned for things to go.

            But as he entered the cafeteria, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold, and all the fear he’d felt at seeing Hatano missing came flooding back. Because the sound he heard was Hatano screaming.

 

* * *

 

 

            Notes: I had the day off, and the pool party I was going to got canceled because of the weather. So I spent the afternoon writing this instead. :) Now the weather’s cleared up, so I’m off to go watch some fireworks. Happy 4th of July!

 


	12. Chapter 12

            The porter was exactly where Hatano thought he would be. In the cafeteria.

            It was mid, bordering on late morning. So it wasn’t as crowded as it could have been. Most of those there were finishing their breakfasts, though a few were starting on a late one. Still, no matter what time of the day, during waking hours the cafeteria was the most reliable place to find a crowd.

            Hatano slipped into the cafeteria as a large group was leaving, then began working his way toward the porter, staying out of that man’s line of sight. It wasn’t hard. The porter was obviously trying to keep an eye out for him, but he was a hopeless amateur. Hatano really didn’t feel bad for what he was about to do to the man.

            It was convenient for him that the porter was standing off to the side of the room, by himself. He was even near a door that led to an employees only area, in case he saw Hatano, or Hatano’s dear granddaddy, and he needed to make a fast exit. That was actually perfect for what Hatano was planning. As long as he could reach him without being spotted. Which Hatano did. He hadn’t survived Yuuki-san’s training for nothing.

            Hatano was between the porter and those doors before the man even knew he was there.

            “Hey, porter-san,” said Hatano, startling him into jumping an entire foot up in the air. “I’d like a word, please.” And he flashed his best imitation of Jitsui’s angel smile. Which would always fall short of the original. But on men like this one who had never seen the original, it was plenty effective.

            “Oh! Ah, uh, Namika-san. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there! But, I uh, I have duties. I must go.” The man had been backing away as he spoke. Also part of Hatano’s plan. Hatano had cut off his emergency exit to the employees only area. So now the only way for him to go was back out, through the crowd. And now the man was between him and the rest of the room. Blocking Hatano from the view of anyone who might be watching with a passing interest.

            “Don’t make me follow you and say what I have to say to you as you’re running through that crowd back there,” said Hatano. “Because I will, you know. I won’t just say it, either. I’ll shout it and make a scene. Your bosses aren’t going to be too happy when they find out you lied about my grandfather collapsing. But if they like you well enough, they might sweep that under the rug. But it’ll be harder to do if I have to shout for everyone in this room to hear that your lie was no mistake. That you told me my grandfather collapsed and was in the infirmary, when no old men have collapsed or even gone to the infirmary today. If I shout that, that will definitely cause problems.”             The porter was visibly sweating. He stepped closer to Hatano and raised his hands, trying to appeal to him. “Please. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

            “Not yet you’re not,” said Hatano, and let his spy smirk show. And then he made his move.

            Sleight of hand got the chemical covered cloth out from inside of his shirt. He grabbed the porter’s hand, crushing the man’s fingers around the cloth, forcing him to hold it. Then he kicked him in the leg and pulled him forward, using all his weight and abandoning his own balance. Hatano fell backwards, with the porter on top of him. The porter started to cry out in surprise, but Hatano drowned the man’s cry with his own terrified, anguished, attention stealing scream. Then he held his breath and pulled the man’s hand that was holding the chemical covered cloth down to his face.

            At first the porter didn’t resist. He didn’t realize what was happening. But as he did, he tried to withdraw his hand. Hatano held it in place with both of his, the best he could. Anyone watching could see they were struggling over the cloth. Telling who was trying to keep it pressed against Hatano’s face and who was trying to pull it away would have been much harder.

            “YOU! GET AWAY FROM HIM!” screamed a familiar voice. Yuuki-san’s. But it was unlike any tone Hatano had ever heard his boss use before. He’d heard Yuuki sound mad before. But this was so far beyond that. He sounded like he wanted to crush someone’s skull against the floor until there was only a smear of blood and grey matter left to show they’d ever been alive.

            Yuuki-san’s a really good actor, Hatano thought with admiration. And he only took another second to decide what the best way for him to play this would be, now that Yuuki was here. It wasn’t a hard call at all.

            He let go of the porter’s hands, and went completely limp, like he’d given in to the chemicals’ effects. One of his hands flopped down on the floor, lifelessly. The other fell on his chest. He even made sure to roll his eyes like they were rolling into the back of his head as he closed them and feigned unconsciousness.

            It was best, Hatano decided, to let Yuuki-san take the lead here. He was the master at it here. And Hatano playing the role of an unconscious victim cut a much more dramatic figure than if he managed to make it through the alleged attack without losing consciousness. A vulnerable, unconscious, attractive teenager never failed to pull at peoples’ heartstrings.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            When Yuuki saw what was happening, his blood went from frozen to boiling so fast, that any chemist would tell you it should have caused an explosion.

            “YOU! GET AWAY FROM HIM!” The words were torn from his throat with such rage that Yuuki barely recognized his own voice.

            He flew across the room, nearly knocking over several staff members who tried to hurry forward and break up the fight, or rather, the kidnapping attempt. When he reached the spot where Hatano lay still on the ground, the porter on top of him, clutching a rag that reeked of chloroform, Yuuki grabbed the man by the throat and bodily threw him off of Hatano. The porter hit the wall hard, and started to slump to the floor. Yuuki didn’t let him.

            He caught the man by his face, then slammed his head into the wall.

            “You complete and utter bastard!” Yuuki snarled, spitting he was so angry. “You hurt my boy – how dare you! How dare you even touch him?”

            “I – I d-didn’t!” stammered the porter. “It’s n-n-not what it l-looks like!”

            Yuuki smashed his head into the wall again. He’d never been so close to killing someone in anger before. He’d never really known what it was to hate someone before.

            It would be so easy to put his fingers through this man’s carotid artery. Then he’d never trouble anyone again. And Hatano . . . Hatano . . .

            Yuuki threw the porter at two approaching staff members. They had seen what had happened. Everyone there had. They would restrain the porter. Or if they didn’t, Yuuki would break both the man’s legs, and that would do it. But right now another staff member was approaching Hatano’s unconscious body. Yuuki hurried to reach his boy first.

            Hatano didn’t move or react at all to his approach. Yuuki lightly rested his hand on Hatano’s face, over his nose and mouth and made sure he was still breathing. Then he tapped his cheek with his three longest fingers, trying to rouse him.

            “Grandson?” he said, remembering only just in time that he had a role to be playing. “Grandson, can you hear me?”

            Hatano didn’t stir. Not even a twitch.

            A dark thought froze Yuuki’s blood solid again. What if Hatano had hit his head again when he fell? What if all the healing he’d done the past few weeks had just been undone? Or worse?

            He didn’t want this. Yuuki had never wanted to feel so much responsibility, or pain over someone else’s fate. But at the same time, the idea of trying to cut his ties to Hatano to get rid of this was unthinkable. He wanted the little brat to be there to stay. How did real parents survive this? he wondered. He was never meant to be a father. He knew it. This was just proof of how badly he was doomed to fail at it. And right now he wasn’t even making a good spymaster either. He needed to pull himself together.

            “Namika-san? Sir?”

            Yuuki looked at the member of the ship’s wait staff who was at his elbow.

            “Shall we carry your grandson to the infirmary for you?”

            “No!” snapped Yuuki. “No, I don’t want you or anyone else touching him!”

            “But sir, he needs medical attention –”

            “A member of this ship’s crew did this to him!” shouted Yuuki. “You think I’ll trust my grandson to any of you after this?”

            “Sir, please, I’m sorry. I don’t know what Tosaka was thinking –”

            “I don’t care what he was thinking!” Yuuki shouted. “That man attacked my grandson! He tried to kidnap my grandson! He knocked my grandson unconscious! I want him arrested! NOW!”

            “Sir, the captain’s on his way,” said another member of the wait staff. “He’ll see to it that Tosaka is restrained for the rest of the voyage. We’ll have the police take over when we arrive home in Japan.”

            Yuuki scowled at the man for several moments, watching him wither and cower, before finally letting him off the hook. “That will have to be enough for now. But once we return to Japan I will personally make sure that he is punished to the full extent of the law. What kind of ship are you running where servants try to abduct children in broad daylight!”

            The crowd was definitely on Yuuki’s side. They had seen what happened, and they were not happy about it. Angry murmurs filled the air, like the buzzing of a swarm of bees.

            The staff made a few protests about waiting for a doctor, but ultimately didn’t try to stop Yuuki when he gathered Hatano into his arms and carried him back to their cabin. He told them to send the captain to his cabin when he arrived, and he would speak with him there, but that the porter Tosaka had better be in chains by that time. He also conceded that he would allow the ship’s doctor to treat Hatano in their cabin, but only there. Hatano would not be spending time in the infirmary, where too many people were free to come and go, and nurses or the ship doctor could banish Yuuki from his side.

            Hatano remained still and lifeless as Yuuki carried him back to their cabin. If Yuuki had been a religious man, he would have prayed it was only because of the chloroform. He didn’t want to think about what might happen if Hatano had hit his head again.

            He carefully laid Hatano down on his bed, as soon as they returned, and moved back to the door to lock it behind them. Then he went and sat down on the edge of Hatano’s bed, beside his boy, and put a hand on Hatano’s forehead.

            Then Hatano opened his eyes and he grinned up at Yuuki. “That went well.”

            Yuuki almost choked. He wasn’t sure what his expression showed at that moment, but the smirk slid right off Hatano’s face because of it.

            “You don’t think it went well?” asked Hatano. “Why not? What did I do wrong?”

            Yuuki closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Well, two moments. Which was a full moment longer than he should have. But he wouldn’t deny to himself that he was relieved. It was like he could suddenly breathe again.

            “You did nothing wrong,” said Yuuki when he opened his eyes, and had his emotions completely under control again. “I doubt we have much time before the ship doctor arrives. But until then, report.”

            Hatano quickly launched into a succinct account of his actions after Yuuki left him on the deck. From how he’d messed up the porter’s plan to get him alone, to his antics in the infirmary, and finally, the staged fight, where he made it look like the porter was trying to abduct him in full view of a moderately sized audience.

            And Yuuki couldn’t help but be impressed. Hatano had come up with that plan on the fly, but executed it perfectly. He completely discredited the porter and got him arrested in one fell swoop. And he hadn’t broken D-Agency’s rules, or even taken any unnecessary risks.

            There was a knock on the door, as soon as Hatano finished, before Yuuki could respond to his story. Hatano gave Yuuki a questioning look.

            “Remain awake,” said Yuuki. Then he went to open the door and let the ship’s doctor in.

            They were able to get rid of the doctor fairly quickly, since all that was allegedly wrong with Hatano was that he had briefly inhaled some chloroform. But as soon as he was gone, the captain arrived. Yuuki let him grovel for a few minutes, and remained stern and angry, making it clear that he would be checking to make sure the porter was remanded into police custody back in Japan. Then at last, he was gone too, and Yuuki and Hatano were alone again.

            While Yuuki showed the captain to the door, Hatano had found the cards Yuuki left on his bed earlier that morning. When Yuuki turned around, after locking the door, Hatano had opened them and pulled out the joker card. He fiddled with it briefly, then made it disappear, in a perfect recreation of Tazaki’s favorite nervous tick. Then he brought it back. Then made it disappear again. He watched Yuuki, silently, waiting for his boss to speak.

            “You have no ill effects from this operation?” asked Yuuki finally.

            “No sir,” said Hatano.

            “Not even exhaustion?”

            “No. I was a bit tired from the running,” admitted Hatano. “But I was able to complete the mission even after that. And I actually feel pretty good right now. I’m currently fully aware and in no danger of passing out from exhaustion.”

            “When you fell, you made sure not to hit your head?” Yuuki didn’t know why he was asking that. The answer was fairly clear. But he wanted to hear it anyway.

            “Of course,” said Hatano. Then he added belatedly, “Sir.”

            Yuuki took a moment to study Hatano, who sat up straight, waiting patiently for his judgment. During that moment, Yuuki collected his thoughts. Then finally, he spoke.

            “Your plan was well conceived for being made up on the spot. And your execution of it was very effective,” Yuuki finally told the boy. “You did well.”

            That was clearly what Hatano had been waiting for. Or at least hoping for.

            “Thanks, Yuuki-san,” Hatano said. Then he made his joker card reappear, and playfully used it to cover one eye as he beamed at Yuuki. And then he smiled. Not one of the droopy eyed smirks or cruel sneers that he usually flashed, but one of his rare real smiles, that lit up his whole face like the sun. And Yuuki couldn’t help but feel a warm flash of pride.

 

* * *

 

 

            Notes: So? What do you think? Did you like Hatano’s plan? Were you surprised, or did you see it coming? And what about Yuuki-san’s reactions? I’d really love to hear your thoughts. ;)

 

            Next chapter will be the final one. It’s actually mostly an epilogue. But it segues this story into the Double Joker episodes. And I plan to write a sequel set after Double Joker 2. When Jitsui comes home!


	13. Epilogue

            When the Hakusan Maru docked in Japan, a car was waiting for Yuuki and Hatano. Fukumoto was driving, as Yuuki had expected. What Yuuki had not planned on was Kaminaga being there as well. But he immediately knew what it meant, if the man who he’d left in charge of D-Agency’s operations in his absence was waiting to speak with him the moment he set foot in the country.

            Fukumoto took Yuuki’s luggage. Hatano handled his own. Yuuki took a seat in the back of the car, and Kaminaga went to sit in the back as well, so they could more easily speak on the drive to D-Agency. But Yuuki stopped him.

            “You sit up front. Hatano, you’re in the back.”

            Kaminaga looked mildly confused, but didn’t argue. Yuuki saw Hatano shrug at Kaminaga to show his own confusion, and despaired for his youngest spy. It should have been obvious to Hatano why he didn’t want him sitting up front. But it was clear that Hatano had no clue, when he climbed into the back and took the seat next to the window.

            “No,” said Yuuki. “Middle seat.”

            “Why?” Hatano challenged.

            “Because there are too many stupid people who don’t know how to drive, and if Fukumoto has to swerve to avoid hitting one of them, I don’t want you hitting your head on the window.”

            “Oh. Okay.” Hatano moved to sit in the middle seat, right next to Yuuki. “I had a head injury,” he explained to Kaminaga and Fukumoto, who were eyeing him and Yuuki through the rear view mirror, curiously.

            “Report,” Yuuki ordered, once the doors were all closed and Fukumoto got the car underway.

            “Jitsui initiated emergency contact last night,” said Kaminaga. “A rival spy agency has taken the bait.”

            “Rival spy agency?” asked Hatano. The wording clearly confused him. ‘Enemy spy agency’ would have been more what he was expecting.

            “Yes. You’ve missed some interesting developments,” said Kaminaga. “Earlier this year the military opened its own spy training school that operates by the military code. They’ve taken on the motto, ‘Kill without hesitation. Die with honor.’ And they call themselves Wind Agency.”

            The look that crossed Hatano’s face was reminiscent of the one Yuuki had seen him wearing several years ago, when Sakuma had gone off on them about their Joker Game. His eyes were half lidded, so you couldn’t tell if he was disgusted or just bored.

            “You made that up,” he accused finally.

            “I’m briefing Lt. Colonel Yuuki,” Kaminaga reminded him, looking like his feathers had been ruffled. “I wouldn’t make that up!”

            “Are you?” asked Yuuki dryly. “Briefing me, that is?”

            “Oh! Sorry! Let me see,” Kaminaga said, buying himself a few seconds to reorganize his thoughts. Then he began reporting the details of the situation, and what Jitsui had passed along.

            Yuuki realized that it was good that he had returned home when he did. Oh, he had no doubt that Kaminaga could have taken care of this juvenile competition with Wind Agency that the military was throwing at them, but this was something Yuuki would much prefer to take care of personally. Anyone who questioned the effectiveness of his boys needed to be roasted personally. And this seemed like it could actually even be fun.

            After briefing Yuuki on the Wind Agency situation, Yuuki instructed Kaminaga to hold off on any other info, unless it was urgent. And since none of it was, the passengers of the car fell silent.

            Halfway home to D-Agency, Yuuki felt a warm weight settle against his upper arm.

            Hatano had fallen asleep and slumped against him. And he wasn’t tall enough for his head to have settled against Yuuki’s shoulder.

            Over the last few weeks of their journey home, Hatano’s condition had continued to improve. Yuuki had been most pleased by his progress. Now, the only lingering effects of his successive concussions were the occasional headache, and his increased need for sleep. He still had a hard time staying awake for longer than twelve hours at a time. But Yuuki wanted him to get as much sleep as he could. If his healing brain was still demanding more rest, then it meant Hatano needed more rest.

            Kaminaga noticed the development almost immediately. Yuuki saw when he elbowed Fukumoto, who then glanced back in the rear view mirror at Hatano, leaning on Yuuki in his sleep. The tall spy smiled with his eyes as he took in the sight. Then Kaminaga twisted all the way around in his seat, holding up one of those infernal cameras he’d become enamored with after his mission in London. A quick flash of light, and the image was captured forever, on film. And when Kaminaga lowered the camera, his eyes were full of mischief, and Yuuki foresaw much teasing, and probably many pranks in Hatano’s near future. He decided to nip this in the bud right now.

            “Hatano suffered three successive head injuries in France, which resulted in brain damage,” he said coolly. Because there was nothing like shock factor to guilt someone toward the proper reaction.

            The smirk melted right off Kaminaga’s face. “What?”

            “How?” asked Fukumoto.

            “First he was hit in the temple by a German soldier’s rifle. Then he was hit in the back of his head, by a French Resistance defector’s pistol. Then he was beaten and his head was struck repeatedly by German soldiers,” Yuuki said tersely. “All within a few days.”

            Yuuki watched as their eyes grew clouded. They had studied head injuries too. They were doing the math now, and realizing their youngest was lucky to be alive.

            “Is he alright now?” asked Fukumoto.

            “As long as he doesn’t take any more hits to the head for awhile, I expect he’ll make a full recovery,” said Yuuki. “He’s still affected by a few post concussive symptoms. Namely, an increased need for sleep. Which no one at our Agency will stand in the way of, in any way, shape, or form.”

            Yuuki didn’t think he needed to elaborate on what that entailed. No pranking Hatano in any way that was related to him sleeping. No making fun of him for it. And no waking him up.

            “Any who do not obey that order will be swimming five miles in the ocean that night,” said Yuuki. And that would include those who overstepped because they thought it would be fun to toe the line. Given what his spies knew about him, he was certain they would infer as much. “I’ll leave it to you to make sure that information is circulated, Kaminaga.”

            “Yes sir,” said Kaminaga immediately, making his camera disappear. Then the matter was dropped and the car ride continued in silence. Fukumoto wouldn’t have been talking anyway, and Kaminaga didn’t want to risk breaking D-Agency’s newest rule.

            Finally, they arrived home. Fukumoto pulled the car up to the agency’s back entrance, then opened Yuuki’s door for him, as Yuuki carefully maneuvered the sleeping Hatano, so he could lift the teen out of the car.

            “Would you like me to carry him?” asked Fukumoto. And then he reached out to take Hatano into his own arms without even waiting for an answer.

            Yuuki felt a strong sense of annoyance at his presumption. “No,” he said curtly. “I’m already holding him. I will carry him.”

            Fukumoto stepped back, a small frown of surprise creasing his features. Yuuki ignored him and began walking toward the agency. Kaminaga hastened to get the door for him.

            Yuuki carried Hatano up the stairs, easily. The boy still hadn’t put back on enough weight. Hopefully now that they were home Yuuki would have more success at correcting that. Fukumoto could help.

            Hatano’s bed in the dormitory was made up, with freshly laundered sheets. Even though Yuuki was well aware that Hatano hadn’t actually ever slept in his own bed. Since even before moving into D-Agency, he had always shared with Jitsui. But Jitsui wasn’t here now, and fresh sheets facilitated falling and staying asleep, so Yuuki laid Hatano down on his own bed, then began untying his shoes to remove them. Hatano stayed asleep through that, but awoke when Yuuki dragged a blanket over him, to tuck him in.

            Hatano blinked at him, looking a little surprised and confused as he turned his head from side to side. “Grandfather? Where are we?” he asked, seeming troubled. “This isn’t our cabin.”

            “No,” said Yuuki. “We’re home.”

            “Home?” Hatano blinked and looked around again. “Oh. Oh. We’re home.”

            “Yes,” Yuuki said. “Your mission is completed.”

            “Our mission,” corrected Hatano, both cheekily and sleepily at the same time, somehow.

            Yuuki favored him with a slight, but indulgent smile. “Our mission,” he agreed.

            Hatano seemed to be struggling to regain full consciousness.

            “None of that, now,” said Yuuki sternly. “You go back to sleep, boy.”

            “Not yet. I never . . . I wanted to thank you,” said Hatano.

            “Whatever it is you think you have to thank me for, you can show your thanks by going back to sleep.”

            “Everything,” said Hatano. “Since the ship. With my head. Taking care of me. Being patient with me. Keeping me alive. Making sure I recovered. I never thought anyone . . . I never had anyone who would . . . I’m grateful. I just . . . I’m really grateful. Thank you.”

            Yuuki let his hand rest on Hatano’s brow. “I was glad to do it. So, you’re welcome.”

            Hatano offered him a sleepy smile. Then his eyes slid closed as he started to drift off.

            The mission was really over. And a part of Yuuki regretted it. The identities of Namika Sho and his grandfather were unusable now. They were roles that would never be played again. Never before had Yuuki walked away from a role feeling such a sense of loss. He’d never before had a role that he didn’t want to leave behind. This was the first time in his life that he’d ever even wanted to hold on to part of one.

            Yuuki grimaced, then forced his features smooth again. What the hell, he decided. What was one self-indulgence after a lifetime of discarding roles, and aspects of himself for the sake of his job?

            He moved the hand that he had rested on Hatano’s head to smooth the hair out of his boy’s face.

            “Goodnight, grandson,” he said gruffly.

            And though he wasn’t expecting an answer, he got one anyway.

            “Goodnight, Grandfather.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Notes: And so it ends. My first long Joker Game fic. Thank you so much for reading!

 

            My headcanon is that forever after, Yuuki and Hatano have a sort of special relationship with each other, because of this mission. The events on the ship opened Yuuki’s eyes up to seeing all of his boys as his legacy, and his last chance at family. But though he sees them all as his sons now, he sees Hatano a bit differently. Partly because Hatano’s the only one who’s really playing along, and now jokingly (but respectfully) will call him Grandfather on occasion. But also because Hatano’s the youngest, essentially the baby of the family, and the relationship he has with Hatano is in a lot of ways more like a grandfather/grandson relationship than a father/son one.      

            As for Hatano, he won’t admit it, but he really liked the role of Namika Sho, since for the first time ever, he had a fatherly-figure looking out for him. He can’t really see Yuuki as a second father, because his view of fathers in general is so tainted thanks to the abuse that his own put him through, that he can’t associate the role with Yuuki, who he respects and even loves the way sons are supposed to love and respect good fathers. He knows his view is warped, and there’re times he privately wishes Yuuki had been his father, because he knows that would’ve made everything different for him. But he can’t see Yuuki as his father, solely because Yuuki can never fit the warped version of the role that’s been built in his mind. He can, however, see Yuuki as his grandfather, since he never knew either of his, and when he woke up with no memories, and Yuuki claimed to be his grandfather, that just kind of stuck. Even with his memories back, a part of him still can’t shake the idea that Yuuki’s his grandfather. So when they’re not in serious situations, and he thinks he can get away with it, Hatano likes to pretend. He does things like pester Yuuki to take them out for ice cream, or finds something cool, like a giant stag beetle, and brings it back to show him. And Yuuki humors him, the way a real grandfather would.

            It’s not a perfect relationship. Neither realizes just how much the other really does care. But it’s the closest to being part of a family either of them has ever found, and it makes them happy, so it’s okay.

 

            Sorry for such a long note, lol. But I just want to also mention that I’m writing another fic that will take place after this one, and after the events of Double Joker. When Jitsui comes home and realizes that things between him and Hatano have changed, and so have Jitsui’s feelings for him. It’s going to be less action/intrigue, more romance/introspection, because Jitsui is well aware of his own sadistic streak, and he starts to realize that he really wants Hatano. But at the same time, he’s very aware of Hatano’s past, of being hurt by someone who should have taken care of him, and Jitsui knows that he’s probably not what’s best for Hatano. But he wants him anyway.

            I’ve also got two other ongoing fics right now. “D-Agency Hotel and Casino,” which is a plot based, modern day AU, where all our boys work in the casino that’s a front for their criminal operations, and Sakuma is an undercover cop trying to bust them, whose identity they’ve known all along. And my other fic “Spy Games” is a bunch of humorous oneshots about the lighter side of life in D-Agency. So if you’re looking for something to read now that The Voyage Home is over, please check out those. :) Thank you again for reading, and I hope you’ll join me for another story sometime in the future!


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